


20 Track - Kankuro Collection

by shadowstrangle



Series: Always Cool Enough For a Drink (And Other Things) [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Big sister Temari, Blood and Violence, Days Off, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gay, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kiba is a brat, Lots of Kankuro drabble, M/M, NejiTen if you squint, Smut, There's also a coup though, Typical boy Kankuro but he's gay, akamaru being precious, and a dork, bartender rock lee, day to day life, kankiba - Freeform, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowstrangle/pseuds/shadowstrangle
Summary: Kankuro finding himself and realizing he deserves love, no matter who it is that he falls in love with (except it's set to his personal playlist.) Also lots of drabble about him living his life, arguing with Gaara, and being a normal dumb guy.Oh, and there's a coup.~"Kankuro finds he likes his room full of music and his bed empty. He’s had girls stay over before, and it’s been nothing but awkward. After a while, all he really wants them to do is leave. They tend to take the hint. It’s been a few years now, and Kankuro’s gained a reputation: he’s notorious for asking out every girl he sees. However, of some of the girls that have talked amongst themselves, they all come to the same conclusion: Kankuro is also well-known for never going all the way. He’s a challenge."Then he runs into Kiba.~[alternatively, the one where Kankuro realizes he's gay and has a little bit of a hard time with learning to be happy.]Set in the Always Cool Enough For a Drink universe.
Relationships: Gaara/Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Neji/Tenten, Inuzuka Kiba/Kankurou, Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Sai/Yamanaka Ino
Series: Always Cool Enough For a Drink (And Other Things) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951945
Comments: 174
Kudos: 187





	1. Kankuro's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME! If you're here because you read [Always Cool Enough For a Drink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178169/chapters/63701218) hello again! If you're here because you haven't, you don't necessarily have to, but it would help! At the very least I would recommend chapters 8-10 as this first chapter is centered between them, but if you want to jump right in you can do that too!
> 
> The times setting here is post-Deidara attack, but there was a gap of a few years and the momentum of the war hasn't picked up yet. It's impending. 
> 
> Standard 18+ warning for sex and alcohol and swearing. It gets a little raunchy!
> 
> ALSO! The songs Kankuro listens to throughout the piece greatly enhance the reading experience. It's more fun if you listen to them as they appear in the text, but again, you don't have to! 
> 
> Without further ado, here you all go! Kankuro's well-deserved spinoff.

**DISC A - KANKURO’S MIX**

One of Kankuro’s prized possessions is something nobody knows anything about. Well, that’s a lie. People see him with it all the time, but they don’t know its turbulent little history, every memory that some plastic and wires can hold. In a way, it holds him together too every now and then. 

It’s a brazenly purple, silky plastic CD player. And Kankuro thinks that if he ever needed to, he would probably kill a guy for it. 

It’s not like the Sand doesn’t have technology, but everything they  _ do  _ receive always seems to be eons behind the other villages. Part of it is because Gaara has no interest in anything remotely progressive and therefore doesn’t fund it, but also because at the end of the day, the Sand doesn’t have the money to fund technology research if they wanted to. 

CD players are rare in themselves, and CDs even rarer. Only certain merchants from generally richer distant lands carry them, and then there’s the issue of what songs one actually gets. Kankuro has lots of stupid mixtapes he’s bought from prospective musicians. They gather dust in his workshop. Sometimes if he’s bored, he’ll give them another chance. Recently, though, he’d found a merchant that made a mix just for him. It’s his favorite.

The CD player itself had been free because Kankuro stole it. He’d swiped it right off of a Sound shinobi in the Chunin exams many years ago, and waited until all the chaos died down to find a moment by himself in his workshop to try and get it to work. It had been a passion project for some time until he’d finally fixed it. He had been 14 and he’d never felt so smart in his life. 

Since then, quiet mornings in his workshop have turned to private concerts. He puts his headphones in, turns up the volume, and gets to work fixing up all of his puppets. The wear and tear of battle gets to them, especially during a time like this when it’s anything but peaceful. It’s a lot of work, but he takes much pride in it, and it’s a steady part of his day. 

Today is no different. 

Kankuro gets ready for his day with one headphone in his ear, dragging himself out of bed at half past nine because he knows Gaara will be ready at ten for the meeting he’ll be accompanying him to today. Kankuro foregoes a morning shower with the boyish notion that he “took one last night” and skips to getting dressed, his head nodding to the music as he puts on his pants. 

**TRACK 1: FAT BOTTOMED GIRLS - QUEEN (at 1:30)**

He skips his shirt because he needs a solid minute and a half to make a muscle in the mirror, and turns to the side to see the progress he’s made on his abs. The clothes he wears are necessary for his fighting style, but sometimes he wishes for something a little more tight fitting. It’s a shame nobody sees this. 

The drums in his headphones start to kick in, and Kankuro’s shoulders move ever so slightly to the beat as his hands wander over his dresser, searching for his face paint. 

_ Oh, won’t you take me home tonight _

_ Oh, down beside your red firelight _

He unscrews the cap to his container of face paint, pasty and bright purple and already needing a refill. His mouth hangs slightly open as he dips his brush, carefully swiping the purple around his eyes.

_ Oh, and you give it all you got _

_ Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin’ world go round _

He lets the lines flow across his face with a lazy intricacy, finishing with a stripe down his chin. Standing back from the mirror, he gives himself a grin. For the hell of it, he flexes another muscle, admiring the results of the extra training he’s been doing. His head still bobs to the song.

“Are you going to keep doing that, or can we leave soon?”

“Christ al- _ fucking _ -mighty--!” For a jonin, Kankuro jumps about three feet in the air after Gaara manages to spook him, just  _ standing  _ there like a damn apparition in the doorway. He manages to do this everywhere he goes, and stares at whoever he sneaks up on until they pay attention to him. It’s even worse at night. 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t know I was there,” Gaara deadpans. “How are you qualified for ANBU?”

“I’m-- shut up! Look at yourself, standing there like a fucking weirdo--” Kankuro splutters frustratedly, arms wildly motioning for Gaara to do anything but stay here. Can’t a man dance to his playlist in peace? Gaara has clearly interrupted his zen.

“Are you embarrassed because you were dancing?”

“Shut  _ up! _ ” Kankuro stuffs his shirt over his head, quick to follow with his hood. “Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?” He grumbles, shouldering his scrolls. “Let’s go. Get out.”

“I shouldn’t have to knock. It’s my house.”

“It’s my room!” Kankuro pushes past him with a proper punch to the arm, but not before he puts his CD player in his pack. It’s the little things. 

~

**TRACK 2 : LADDERS - MAC MILLER**

Gaara’s meetings can go for hours. Sometimes Kankuro’s required to be a part of them, but other times, Gaara understands that he would rather die and “orders” him to stand guard outside instead. It’s a nice arrangement that they have. He usually has some sort of activity to fiddle with while he’s outside: a book to read, a knife to sharpen, or even a piece of a puppet to fix. Today, he chooses to put one headphone in and finish the zen morning Gaara had so cruelly stolen from him. 

He doesn’t much mind being out here by himself. In fact, it’s often like this whether they’re working or not. Lazily, he works up some chakra strings and flicks his hand so they scatter down the hallway. That way he’ll be able to tell if there’s any footsteps or activity coming near. 

He has a lot to think about this morning. After the eventfulness of this week, Gaara has a date tonight, and it’s finally starting to set in to Kankuro that he’s the middle child yet again: but this time in romance. 

Kankuro’s attention is broken by two sand kunoichi walking down the hall. They’re jonin, obviously, and he gives them a wave. It sends them swooning. He’s sure he’s seen one of them out in the village- he’s out most nights, after all. What was her name?

He loses any trace of her surname when their teammate chases after them, in tight pants and a chain mail shirt. Kankuro is so busy watching how good the jonin’s arms look in his shirt that he doesn’t notice the song in his ear skipping. 

He snaps back to attention when the song starts playing normally again, clears his throat as if someone was watching him, but in reality he’s all by himself. Tipping his head back against the clay walls of the building, Kankuro wills himself to zone out about damn near anything else. An extra hour of sleep. The snacks he’ll eat later. The shirt of Gaara’s he’d stolen and ruined for a puppet, and needs to replace. Why he’s not married. No, not that. Certainly not thinking about that. A new brand of poison he can start to develop. How much money he has to spend on liquor this week. Whether he has any missions lined up for next week.

“Kankuro?”

Kankuro lifts his eyes to see Gaara’s head poking outside of the door. “Hmm?”

“This one is going to run long and then I’m staying behind. You can head home.”

Kankuro glances at the clock and realizes it’s already been forty minutes. “You sure?” He retracts his chakra threads. 

“Yes.”

Kankuro shrugs. He certainly won’t argue to stay. “See you later, then.”

“I might not. I have my date tonight.” Gaara puffs out his chest a little bit. He’s insufferable. 

Kankuro rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t even have that date if it wasn’t for me,” he says, already starting down the hall. 

“You’re right! I appreciate your advice.”

Kankuro doesn’t even have the heart to tease him back. For a big brother, he’s pretty proud. “It’s gonna be great!” He calls, waving goodbye to Gaara.

The sun is already blinding as he walks outside, all the way up by now and beating heat down on his shoulders. Wearing all black makes him feel cooler than anybody, but when it comes down to the sun sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so edgy. 

“Nice to see you this morning, Kankuro-san! You look well!” Calls out an elderly lady as he passes through the village. Kankuro waves back with a smile and a thank you. He’s not sure why he does so well with older women. Is he that attractive?

“Kankuro-senpai! Are we playing cards tonight?” Another village jonin in his division calls out to him.

“Probably,” laughs Kankuro. He pauses in his walk while two stray dogs scurry in front of him. He’s guilty of feeding them sometimes, and they’ve started to remember his scent by now. 

“Man, I don’t even think I have anything for you guys…” he says absentmindedly, sighing as he grabs the bag he holds his scrolls in. “I might…”

The dogs sit as if they understand, happy to wait. 

Kankuro holds his hands up in a shrug. “You’re out of luck,” he says, and one of the dogs whines in protest. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Tomorrow,” Kankuro grins, and bends down briefly to scratch both of their ears. “I’m busy right now, anyway.”

By busy, Kankuro means he has to buy three bags of chips- different flavors- at a nearby stand and head for home. He assumes he’ll have to make himself scarce for Gaara’s date later, so he’ll take advantage of their empty house now. 

He drops his scrolls by the door downstairs, shoes haphazardly scattered behind him. The demeanor of a child follows him everywhere he goes in his household manner. 

When he gets upstairs to his room, he lets his shirt and pants hit the floor, because there truly isn’t a better way to enjoy an afternoon than in his underwear. 

**TRACK 3 : VALERIE - AMY WINEHOUSE**

Now that he’s actually by himself, he can yank the string of the headphones out and let his music flow through the tiny speaker the CD player has. He tosses it onto the bed and follows, grunting when his back hits the mattress. He really should have trained today, but for some reason, he can’t be bothered. 

He’s had a lot on his mind lately. Maybe taking a break is the solution to that. After all, he nags Gaara all the time to take it easy. Why shouldn’t he do the same, especially when the opportunity presents himself?

When he tears open a bag of potato chips, he hears Temari’s voice in his head.  _ Don’t eat where you sleep. Pigs do that. You’ll leave crumbs.  _ But the louder he chews, the more it drowns her voice out. This is certainly the upside of not having a nagging wife. 

Kankuro finds he likes his room full of music and his bed empty. He’s had girls stay over before, and it’s been nothing but awkward. After a while, all he really wants them to do is leave. They tend to take the hint. It’s been a few years now, and Kankuro’s gained a reputation: he’s notorious for asking out every girl he sees. However, of some of the girls that have talked amongst themselves, they all come to the same conclusion: Kankuro is also well-known for never going all the way. He’s a  _ challenge. _

He loves the attention, being fawned over, called  _ cute  _ and he has to laugh and say that he’s not, likes to give a cocky grin when they change it to  _ handsome.  _ He never has any problem shelling out double the money for a girl’s drink. He lets them hang onto his arm on the way home and is always lit up with exciting conversation, but the spark never brings itself past a sloppy makeout session in the bedroom. 

Nobody can quite put their finger on why. 

Upon realizing that the house is not only empty but it will be empty for hours, Kankuro moves his snacks to the bedside table, licks flavoring off of his fingers, and slides off of his bed. 

He has to properly lift up the edge of the mattress to get to the magazines he’s carefully stowed underneath it. A lot of them are actually from Konoha. The Leaf is large enough that they have shops with magazines of Kankuro’s taste, but a lot of other ones are from distant lands. Kankuro has never been much of a reader- Jiraiya has long since noticed his taste in literature and tried to sell him Makeout Tactics- but pictures speak much easier to him. 

Leaning back against his pillows, he tucks one leg up, resting the magazine against his thigh while he flips through it. 

The first few pages are all women. They’re scantily clad, fishnets and heels, with long hair and rouged cheeks. They pose like they’re looking right at him, with hands that beckon towards him. Kankuro has seen them before, and his eyes are bored, merely scanning over them while he turns the pages. 

It’s the middle he’s looking for. When he gets to a certain page, that’s when he can see the pages he’s hidden inside of this magazine, the ones that had been nearly impossible to get in the Sand. 

Knockoff shinobi playboy models turn to cut out and taped pictures of male models Kankuro had taken from other magazines. Most of them are shirtless with bodies Kankuro thinks are even better than his own, toned chests and arms flexing. One of them has his shirt pulled up between his teeth, showing a glimpse of a fit stomach. Kankuro’s eyes linger for longer than he would like them to.

When he shifts his position, his leg goes right over the CD player, muffling whatever song is playing. It’s not like he’s paying attention. 

He flips another page. His mouth is dry. 

Briefly, Kankuro glances at the door to check if it’s closed. This isn’t something he’d like Gaara to be a part of in case he slinks back home for some ungodly reason. 

He relaxes against the pillows again, the only sounds in the room being some muffled song about who knows what and the  _ flick _ of the thin pages of his magazine. 

With one last look at the door just to be sure, he leans over to his bedside table to grab a bottle of lotion and the tissues beside it. Setting the magazine down, he pumps some lotion onto his hand, closing his eyes. His hand slips past the elastic of his boxers. 

There are probably a lot of girls who wonder if they’re the one Kankuro thinks about when he’s alone like this. The answer is so astronomically “no.” 

Kankuro’s breathing gets heavier as his hand starts to move up and down, his mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh.’ He’s used to being quiet like this. It becomes a skill when you live with two siblings. 

When he’s left to just his mind, Kankuro thinks about things he’s never tried, people he’s never spoken to, things that he craves but could never verbalize. It’s a secret that time and time again he’s decided he’ll die with, but sometimes he wonders if he can keep it at all.

His hand speeds up, a blush spreading over his chest that he’s never really conscious of, and he still resists the urge to make any noise even though he can feel it building in the back of his throat. 

He thinks of hands that aren’t his own, someone to read his body better than he does, and someone who sees just what he does. Typically, a random village girl he meets over a few drinks doesn’t cut it for him even if he wants it to.  The only reason Kankuro brings so many girls home is because he can’t stop thinking about boys. Kankuro drinks himself into oblivion with beautiful women as if he can pretend that they’re beautiful men; he kisses them with fervor as if his lips will change them to something he’s attracted to, he leans up next to them and talks them up like he cares about their opinion of him. 

He wonders what it’s like to kiss someone he actually wants to kiss, to feel so hungry for someone that his skin gets hot, to feel someone else’s hands besides his own make him breathless like this. 

Kankuro’s shoulders jolt with the sudden force of his orgasm, chest rising and falling rather heavily as he strokes himself through it, not at all phased by the splatter over his belly or the few drops that had gotten onto his sheets. 

Finally, he opens his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. His arms and legs feel heavy, body warm with pleasure coursing through his veins. He lets it sink into his skin, sits in this moment, but after a while it gets old and he gets bored. 

There’s a part of this he doesn’t want to entertain, the same way he does every time this happens. Surely there are other men who do this. Surely. 

With a lazy arm, he hits the ‘off’ button on his CD player and decides on a nap, but not before he cleans himself up. Instead of taking everything else off of his bed, he simply pushes it to one side with a plan to deal with it when he wakes up. 

It’s his day off. He can do whatever he wants. 


	2. Kankuro's Night Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for alcohol & a teeny tiny bit of homophobia. If you've read ACEFAD I'm sure you'll remember this from chapters 9-10 ish! It's from Kankuro's point of view.

When Kankuro starts to wake up, he’s aware of multiple things. One, he has no idea what time it is. Two, he’s definitely slept for much too long. Three, someone keeps saying his name, and he wishes they would stop.

“Kankuro.”

“Kankuro.”

Kankuro groans. He wonders if he’s dreaming, but when he sees a familiar figure in his doorway, he puts the pillow over his head. His room is an entire hallway over. They live in a mansion. He still has no peace. 

“What, you little freak? Can’t you see I was asleep? And does a closed door mean anyth--” Kankuro just sighs exasperatedly. He doesn’t have the energy to finish his sentence. 

“It’s half past five. I figured you would want me to wake you up,” says Gaara blandly.

He’s not wrong, but it doesn’t make Kankuro any happier about being roused from his nap. 

Gaara motions to his bed. “You live like this?” 

“If you don’t get out of here in the next  _ three _ seconds I’m going to break every bone in your body.”

“Let’s save that event for another day. My schedule is full today,” says Gaara. “Do you have that black shirt of mine?”

“Three seconds!” Kankuro yells. He wishes he had something to throw. 

“I just said--”

“Three! Two!”

“You could say ‘No, Gaara, I don’t have your shirt.’ Or, alternatively, you could say, ‘Yes, Gaara, I have your shirt.’ You could even address me as  _ Kazekage-sama _ \--”

Kankuro interrupts by throwing his pillow across the room. It’s met with a predictable plume of sand. “One!”

“I’ll see you later,” calls Gaara, as he steps out of the room. “Have a good night. I’m sure I’ll be home in the evening. Maybe if it goes well Sakura will want to come, too.”

Kankuro doesn’t answer for a moment, but he can’t help sending out a muffled, “Good luck, kiddo.”

He should go out tonight too, shouldn’t he?

~

  
  
  
  


Eight shots and three wells are enough to have Kankuro falling over on the bar by the end of that Tuesday night. His friends have all gone off to bed, home to their wives or turned in early for a mission the next day. The people seated at the bar next to him come and go, faces constantly changing, the wood of the bar counter getting stickier, and Kankuro is almost half asleep, slumped over with his head on his elbows. He wonders distantly who would be getting the call from the bar owner to pick him up if he had another drink. Surely not Temari. She’ll kill him. And Gaara’s apparently on a date. Lately, it seems even Gaara is surpassing him in the love game, finally learning to navigate women from the sounds of his bedroom some nights. Maybe it’ll be Baki. 

“Look alive,” says a voice next to him; light, airy, teasing. Certainly that of a woman.

Kankuro turns his head. He’s right, no doubt. She’s beautiful, long black hair cascading down her back, dark eyes, pink cheeks that say she’s a little tipsy. Her lips are painted red, eyes dramatic with Kohl around the edges, and an outfit that Kankuro notes seems rather unfit for the cool desert temperatures in the evening. The rings on her fingers make her look wealthy. All the jewelry she’s wearing does, actually, and even in his state Kankuro can put two and two together that she didn’t pay for it. He knows what she is, and he wonders how much she charges for an hour. 

It always happens like this. Is he easy? Does he look lonely? 

“I’m alive,” Kankuro says, blinking to clear blurry vision, and resting his head on his chin instead to look at her. 

She takes the seat to his right. “Good. You’re too handsome to die just yet.”

Kankuro grins.  _ Turn it on, turn it on, _ he tells himself. Not that he has to try very hard. He’s certain all it’ll take is to empty his wallet. “What’ll you have, doll?” Oh, he’s  _ drunk.  _

“Something fruity,” she answers, and doesn’t bother to offer to pay for it. 

Kankuro puts out a few bills for the bartender and he comes back with something for the woman. The glass reeks of cranberry and vodka and Kankuro is reminded why he doesn’t much like mixed drinks. 

“My name is Ina.” She sips at her drink. “Tell me why someone so handsome like you is sitting without any company.” 

He resists the urge to hiccup. “Is company something you’re offering?”

Ina smirks over her glass, the rim stained with red lipstick. “What makes you think you’re entitled to it?”

Kankuro reaches into his wallet again and pulls out a fifty dollar bill, setting it in front of her. “I’m  _ royalty. _ ”

Kankuro rarely pulls his “the Kazekage is my brother” card because he knows he’ll probably get scolded for it. He’s not supposed to bring his political status into his “romping around at night,” according to the elders. 

She takes the bill, folding it and slipping it into her shirt. “I like royalty.” She leans closer to him and Kankuro can smell the cranberry on her breath. “But I’m not sure how it’ll look if I go to bed with the Kazekage’s brother.”

Kankuro despises when people think they have the upper hand on him, and yet, he’s too much of a dope right now to be able to resist the way she whispers in his ear. What he wants is unimaginable. 

He reaches into his wallet again. “How does it look now?”

Ina’s manicured hand pockets the money and then finds a place on his thigh.

~

Kankuro’s eyes are open when he kisses her in his bed later that night. She’s on top of him without a shirt on, and his hands are stiff on her sides. 

Out of breath, Ina leans back to sit on his hips, bored. “This is it?”

“This- what?” 

“ _ This.”  _ She motions right under her, between Kankuro’s legs. Normally the men she sleeps with are damn near spilling out of their boxers by now.

He knows exactly what she’s talking about. “I’m- sorry. I had a lot to drink.”

Ina raises a perfectly filled in eyebrow. “That doesn’t happen with me.”

“No, no, s’not you,” Kankuro is quick to say. He doesn’t want her to leave, and he doesn’t want to offend her, either. “Come here.” It’s almost awkward, the way he tries to pull her back down to kiss him. 

She sets a hand out on his chest as she bends down to kiss him again. “You don’t seem excited to see me all,” she purrs, while her other hand trails past the elastic waistband of his boxers. Kankuro’s eyes squeeze shut. 

He hopes that she thinks his cheeks are red from all the drinking he’s been doing. He hopes she thinks everything is a result of the drinking. 

Ina’s efforts continue for maybe a few more minutes at best, but eventually, she gets back up. That’s when she starts climbing off of him, searching for her clothes. “We’re done here.”

“No, wait--” Kankuro sits up on his elbows, and the room is spinning very, very slowly. “Just… hang on a sec,” he slurs.

“I don’t have time for this,” Ina snorts, “not for what you paid me. If I wanted to talk to people, I’d have become a therapist.”

Kankuro watches as she starts slipping all her jewelry back on. 

“I should have known from the start,” she continues, bending down to pull on her shoes, “when I approached a man wearing makeup.”

“ _ What?  _ No. No, no, no. You’ve- you’ve got it wrong. I’m not--”

“It’s not like I care. I just wonder what all your other girlfriends do when you invite them over. Do you play  _ Shogi _ ?” She says coolly, slipping on a diamond bracelet. 

Kankuro’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest and every time he moves, the alcohol decides to spin his brain 90 degrees. “Ina.”

She doesn’t answer, is too busy fixing up her lipstick in a compact mirror as she stands to go. 

“ _ Ina, _ ” Kankuro says again, something else desperately hanging in his voice. 

She turns around to see him holding out another hundred dollar bill- one of the few he’s already given her tonight- the only reason she’d played along with his drunk conversation this long. 

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” is what he says.

“As if it’s worth talking about,” Ina rolls her eyes and snatches the bill out of his hand, heels sharp against the floor as she heads for the door. “Kankuro?” She calls out, one of the first times she’s said his name all night.

“Huh?” He asks wearily. 

“Maybe find a different hooker next time.”

~

Kankuro lays and watches his ceiling fan for about twenty minutes after that until it makes him feel nauseous, trying to think about anything but his heart beating out of his chest. He’s so miserably drunk and the house is still empty. He looks a complete mess, and doesn’t bother to put a shirt on when he finally rises from his bed and decides to go downstairs. 

Coincidentally, the front door opens just then, and he hears two voices. It’s undeniably Sakura and Gaara, both of them sounding cheerful as ever and he can’t believe he chose this time to be at the top of the stairs, but now he has to commit. He clamps a hand over his mouth when he feels hiccups coming on, but as soon as he determines he won’t throw up, he starts to head down. Leave it to him to interrupt a date. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he slurs, pointing to Gaara, then Sakura, then Gaara again, “So cute.” Gaara really is running social circles around him. By the looks of it, he’s done everything right, having studied everything Kankuro told him. Too bad Kankuro can’t take his own advice. He hiccups again. “Sorry. I just. Got home, and I need’t’take a shower.”

Kankuro barely registers missing a step as he descends. He only notices when instead of his feet hitting the ground, he faceplants straight into a pile of sand that suddenly leaps in front of him. He just groans, and as it dissipates, Sakura and Gaara are coming around to either side of him to help him. 

“Did you have a good night, at least?” Sakura asks. Kankuro is leaning all the way into her, all six feet of him.

“Notsogood,” he mumbles thickly, “such a bad date. Worst sex ever.”

Kankuro doesn’t miss the look of embarrassment that flickers over Gaara’s face, and he internally apologizes to his brother as Gaara puts Kankuro’s other arm over his shoulder to help him walk. 

Whatever Kankuro unintelligibly slurs next, he doesn’t really remember. He keeps talking to both of them as they walk him to the bathroom, is overly concerned about how their date went as the big brother that he is, but every question he has is interrupted by him heaving into the toilet. 

Kankuro throws up like he wants every drop of whatever possessed him tonight to be gone, and he can’t make himself look at Gaara or Sakura, not when he’s this drunk and embarrassed. Instead, he retches for a while and then tiredly sags his body when he’s finished. He wants Gaara to leave, but he’s also kind of happy that he hasn’t yet. 

Kankuro glances to the side of the bathroom. A cold shower seems enticing, but Gaara reads his mind. “Don’t shower. Just go to bed,” he says calmly. 

From underneath him, Kankuro feels hands pulling him up to stand. “I got it,” he says. He stands for a few seconds and looks at Gaara as if to prove it, and slowly makes his way up the stairs by himself. He decides he can’t take up any more of Gaara’s time since he’s having such a sweet date. 

Besides, the sooner he goes to sleep and forgets all about this night, the better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes baby brother Gaara gets to be the big brother.   
> Check out my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)


	3. Konoha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this era of time will also probably be an ACEFAD oneshot but that's a story for another day  
> also for everyone who is hungry for Kiba... HE FINALLY APPEARS!

When Kankuro wakes up, he’s blearily reminded that it’s Wednesday. 

This Wednesday in particular he wakes up with a splitting headache and a lurch in his stomach, an unpleasant reminder of last night’s events. When he runs to the bathroom to throw up for what feels like the hundredth time by the rawness of his throat, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s all messy hair and smudged face paint, smears of purple on his face and neck. As he heaves into the toilet, he’s thankful there is no woman in his bed. There’s a whisper of a rumor starting to gather about the Kazekage’s brother being a player and Gaara doesn’t like all the extra negative attention. He also can’t possibly imagine facing Ina right now- oh, God. 

Kankuro can’t sense Gaara creeping down the hallway to check on him yet, so he assumes he isn’t home from his meeting. As nonverbal as he is, Gaara cares for Kankuro in his own weird way. Sometimes it’s making him something disgusting so he’ll throw up from the night before. Other times it’s purposely wrinkling up his nose and telling Kankuro he needs to take a shower. Or, on occasion, he’ll wordlessly drop a basket of clean clothes by Kankuro’s room because he’s taken it upon himself to do the week’s laundry, and Gaara despises laundry. Gaara also takes an extra long time to come back from his meetings on Wednesdays, because he knows Kankuro likes having the house to himself. He never says that, though. 

When he feels like he’s finished throwing up, Kankuro takes it upon himself to get in the shower. He’s admittedly not in the best shape after going out, and standing under the water for a few minutes (five- water rations) wakes him up. He finally doesn’t smell like liquor when he comes out, and the stale face paint that had dried on his skin is gone. 

His eyes are still tired when he looks at himself in the mirror. With another pang of nausea, he realizes he truly does need to take better care of himself. 

Right now? He’s going back to bed.

~

Kankuro starts petitioning for missions the very next day. The only ones he usually takes care of are local ones, so he can be in the village to oversee his duty as the Kazekage’s bodyguard. But God, he feels so unbelievably trapped in his own skin that he can’t stand it, and he wants to  _ go somewhere.  _ Weeks go by, and the council continues to assign him locally. There’s no reason for a jonin of the royal family to be anywhere but home. 

Maybe he’s so stir crazy because he hasn’t gone out in a few weeks. He’s petrified of that bar, too anxious to see any girls talking about what Ina might have shared with them. His liver needs a break, too, and he puts all of his remaining energy into spending long hours in his workshop. 

Kankuro’s break comes when the Chunin exams roll around. Normally, he’d be dragging his feet on the 3-day walk, but this time around he’s practically flying out the door. He hates the commute, but he really does love Konoha. They’ve got the best night life. 

Summer in Konoha is rather painful. The air is different there. It’s sticky and humid, with the warmth following a brief rainy season. It always feels like syrup, creeping through your clothes and making you drip sweat, heavy in your lungs when you breathe it in. Before Kankuro can open his mouth to complain about it, Gaara takes care of it the second they step through the village gates. 

“The air here feels disgusting.” He’s poetic as ever, Gaara, and is uncomfortably picking at the edges of his hair that are starting to curl up from the humidity. 

“You feel disgusting,” responds Kankuro just for fun. 

They’re met with Temari grabbing both of their ears and growling at them to shut up, but she quickly lets go when she sees Shikamaru meeting them at the gates. She always saves face in front of him, but Kankuro won’t tease her for it. Shikamaru is a good man, and Kankuro likes him. 

“Good to see you,” Kankuro pipes up. 

“Likewise,” smiles Shikamaru, “glad you got here safe, Kazekage… Temari.” He nods over to her, and his smile gets a little bit wider. 

“I hope we’re not too late,” adds Gaara. Kankuro knows he is lying through his teeth, because the sole reason they were late  _ was _ Gaara. The kid can’t follow a schedule to save his life. 

“The meeting has just started,” Shikamaru shrugs, waving a hand. “I can escort you.”

Kankuro feels like Konoha changes each time he returns to it. Granted, that might be because he only comes a few times a year, but it seems to be a lot more exciting than the Sand. Something is always going on.

The streets are full as they walk through them, with stores open and kids running around. They pass by Konoha’s academy, which has children training in the courtyard.

“Hey! Shikamaru! Wait up-- oh, shit,” a loud voice carries closer, running towards Shikamaru, “Sand guys. Great to see you.” Truthfully, Kankuro can’t put his finger on the guy’s name until his giant white dog comes bounding after him, and then Kankuro can put two and two together. He’d had a run in with him quite a few years ago when the Sasuke situation had come to a boiling point. 

“What? Make it quick, I have to get the Kazekage to a meeting,” Shikamaru says. 

“Calm down! We can walk and talk at the same time,” Kiba says, grinning widely, hands behind his head as he walks. He looks different than Kankuro remembers. He seems to be growing a beard. This may be because the last time they saw each other for more than two minutes at a time, Kankuro was fourteen. “You’re still coming tonight, right?”

“Coming where?” Temari cuts in, looking between Shikamaru and Kiba. 

“A bunch of us are hanging out by the waterfall tonight. Swimming. Sake. It’s Friday and the exams start next week, so they’re calming down with the missions to keep all the Chunin and Jonin in the village for security. Shikamaru, you make me look like an idiot. If I had known your girlfriend was coming I’d have invited her from the start, no one tells me anything around here--”

“You don’t need to invite her. I was planning on inviting her,” Shikamaru rolls his eyes. 

“I’m just offering! Kazekage, are you coming? Naruto will be there. And Kankuro,” Kiba says, pointing to each of them. “All of you are welcome. Hey, Gaara, I heard something a while ago, are you and Sakura--”

Gaara knows what he’s going to ask, and he refuses to discuss his love life the entirety of this visit if he can help it. “I’m late for a meeting,” he reminds Kiba, who rolls his eyes. 

“Everyone knows, but okay. I’ll be asking you later,” Kiba chirps. In the back of his mind, Kankuro wonders if he ever stops talking. Not to mention his voice is so loud that it damn near pierces his eardrums. 

Briefly, Kankuro is distracted by Akamaru sniffing his shirt. It seems Akamaru remembers him. And if Akamaru remembers fully- which he does- it’s because Kankuro saved his and Kiba’s life once. Kankuro remembers him too. 

“You were a lot smaller a few years ago,” he chides playfully, and bends down to be at eye level and scratch behind Akamaru’s ears. 

“He was, wasn’t he? But now he’s big and strong. That’s my guy. He’ll be the first dog Hokage, you know. After me.” Kiba puffs out his chest proudly. 

“Kankuro, we’re late,” calls out Gaara, already walking ahead. He’s probably just mad people know he and Sakura are an item. 

“I’ll catch up,” Kankuro calls back, waves them on. 

“You should come tonight. It’ll be fun,” Kiba says genuinely. “I’m sure everyone’ll be excited to see you and catch up. You build any cool puppets lately?”

Kankuro is floored that someone- let alone  _ Kiba _ \- has remembered anything about him. He’s used to fading out of the limelight between his two siblings. Middle child syndrome. 

“Yeah,” he blinks a few times, and breaks into a much needed smile. “Yeah, I have. I’m working on a couple, but I left them in Suna. Too risky to bring them into battle.”

Kankuro glances ahead at where Shikamaru, Temari, and Gaara are starting to turn a corner. “I gotta catch up before I get lost,” he jokes, “your damn village is too big.” He pats Akamaru’s head one more time in a goodbye, and stands. 

Kiba laughs pleasantly, loudly, and nods. “I’d better see you later!”

~

When the dreadful afternoon of meetings is over, the three of them part ways like usual. Shikamaru and Temari offer to meet up with Kankuro later, as they’re actually going to the gathering by the lake. He’s pleasantly surprised (he doesn’t expect Gaara to be in attendance for a number of reasons.)

When they walk through the training grounds to get to the lake, there’s plenty of people in their year already there. He can see familiar shirts laying on the riverbank, and some extra loud splashes from further down the river. It seems Rock Lee is playing Marco Polo with three of Naruto’s shadow clones. 

On the other side of the bank, Neji and Tenten are sitting on a blanket together, sharing what looks to be a bottle of beer. Ino is tanning in what’s left of the afternoon sun, joined by Hinata, who is too enamored with keeping her eyes on Naruto for anything else. Sai is drawing Ino, but she’s far too lazy to notice.

A loud bark from Akamaru attracts everyone’s attention, almost as if to say that Kankuro, Shikamaru, and Temari are here. There’s a loud hello from Choji, charmingly endeared by his best friend and his girlfriend. 

“See?! I told you they’d show up!” Calls Kiba from the riverbank. He’s been swimming too, hair wet and matted to his head, shirt strewn aside. “No Gaara?”

“Or Sakura-chan. It must be true!” Naruto shrieks. “Kankuro, Kankuro, Kankuro. You’ll tell the truth. Are they really together?”

Kankuro isn’t sure what he should say. He honestly doesn’t really know. “I mean…”

All his friends are watching him wide-eyed. Suddenly, it’s gone silent with the exception of running water. They’re waiting for a straight answer. “I dunno? I mean…” he looks at Temari for permission. 

“They’re so dating!” exclaims Ino. 

“Ask them yourselves. I don’t know. All I know is she stayed over a lot,” Kankuro shrugs. Gaara will kill him, but he has to tell them something. 

“Guess we won’t be seeing them, then,” Naruto crows, and falls back onto the water just to spite Lee, but also so he can backfloat. 

It seems all anyone really does is ask about his brother. 

“I vote that the next game should be a chicken fight,” Lee’s overly formal voice breaks Kankuro’s train of thought. 

“Only if I can be on top,” says Naruto. “I guess you’re lighter, though…”

“I’m not carrying anybody,” Kiba says, crossing his arms. 

“Kiba, you’re 5’5. You think anybody wants to be on your shoulders? They’ll barely see over the water,” jeers Naruto. 

“What Kiba lacks in height he makes up for in agility and physical strength,” booms a voice coming from a nearby tree. 

“I knew you’d back me up, Shino!” Kiba grins. “In that case, I’ll be on top. Naruto, give me one of your shadow clones, or something.”

“They get angry at each other if they do stuff together for too long,” admits Naruto. “Kiba, you’re light. You go on top, too… someone with big shoulders… big shoulders… if only Sakura-chan were here…”

He scans the riverbank, deep in thought with a hand in front of his forehead to block the sunlight. His gaze stops when he locks eyes with Kankuro, who looks to either side of himself as if Naruto is pointing to someone else. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you! You used to carry all those toys on your back--”

“They’re not toys, they’re--”

“Whatever! Can you just play?!”

Kankuro is grumbling while he tugs his hood and his shirt off, but reluctantly agrees. 

Ino’s eyes are wide as she whispers to Hinata, things like “He’s been hiding those abs for how many years now?”, and “He looks better in makeup than I do.”

“Bushy Brows, get up. We’re not losing to a guy who smells like dog  _ or _ a Sand guy!” Naruto says, and bends down for Lee to get on his shoulders. 

Kankuro wades over to where they are. The water is cool and refreshing, not at all uncomfortable. “Looks like we get to team up again,” he grins at Kiba, “just don’t almost die this time, okay?”

“I won’t lose!” Kiba argues. He’s light when he clambers onto Kankuro’s shoulders, and the few extra inches of height Kankuro has on Naruto gives them a little bit of an advantage. 

“Hey, Kankuro? Does the makeup come off when you get in the water?” asks Naruto. 

“First of all, it’s not makeup. Second of all-- hey!” Kankuro moves back, because the fight has already started, and Naruto is doing what he does best: diversionary tactics. 

Lee and Kiba are actually a good match for each other. Lee is faster, of course, but they weigh about the same and have a similar no-holds-barred fighting technique. The competition is more so between Kankuro and Naruto, and Kankuro never sees himself losing to Naruto. Especially when it’s a competition of strength.  Before anything else, though, Kankuro is having _fun._ He doesn't mind that sometimes Kiba tugs at his hair to stay on, or that he always yells when he talks, or that he's kind of come close to choking Kankuro a few times with his thighs (now Kankuro has just learned to hold them tighter for maximum utility.) 

“I’m kind of proud of him. Normally on his days off he drinks so much he can’t stand up,” Temari says to Shikamaru as they watch the fight, tipping her head onto his shoulder. He’s opened a beer for himself and is content in the sunlight, sitting on a blanket with her. 

“Men who do that are always trying to fix something bigger than themselves,” answers Shikamaru. 

“I can’t imagine what he’d possibly be trying to fix. It’s just nice to see him sober, is all.”

Shikamaru takes a swig of his beer. “Everyone’s a little bit better with the support of their friends.”

Suddenly Naruto yells so loudly that it muffles the sound of the splash that comes right after. Lee tumbles into the water and Kiba cheers, but not before losing his balance and toppling off as well. Kankuro does his best to break Kiba’s fall, but all it does is make him fall under the water, too. 

When everybody comes up from under the water, they’re laughing so hard that their stomachs hurt, and they’re out of breath. The sun is setting over the waterfall, and it’s the most exciting night Kankuro has had in a while- a much needed break. He gets stressed too, even if he’s not the Kazekage. 

Kankuro’s face is streaked with purple now. He knows this because Naruto can’t look at him with a straight face, and he decides to wash the rest of it off. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your real face before. Has anybody ever told you that you look like the fourth Kazekage?” Kiba asks.

“That’s my dad,” Kankuro deadpans. 

“No kidding?!”

Kankuro’s father isn’t really a favorite subject of his, nor is being reminded of how he’s the spitting image of him. However, Kankuro won’t let an innocent question ruin his evening. He looks at Kiba and motions to his cheeks. “Why aren’t those coming off in the water?” 

“Huh?” Kiba has to pat at his face a few times to understand what Kankuro is even talking about. “Oh, these?” He points to his cheek markings, and gives one of those big hearty laughs, the kind that show all the teeth in his mouth. “These are tattoos.”

“No kidding?!” Kankuro pays him one right back. “Clan markings, right?”

Kiba nods proudly. “Inuzuka.”

“Right.” The one with the dogs. 

They’ve spent so long on their little sidebar that they haven’t noticed everyone else is out of the water and settling in the grass, now. 

“I believe it is time to start drinking, however, I will not be partaking. I will remain to make sure everyone gets home safe!” Lee salutes all his friends sitting in a circle. 

“We should drink in order of rank. That way the Genin drink last,” Shikamaru calls out, snickering over at Naruto. 

“Shut up!”

“I like that,” pipes up Neji, the first time he’s spoken all evening. “In that case, Jonin are first.”

“Huh, count me in,” Kankuro grins, taking a seat next to Lee, who has dubbed himself bartender for the evening. 

Kankuro realizes Kiba is coming to sit next to him when he feels water coming off of him as he shakes his wet hair out the same way Akamaru would. 

"Seriously?" Ino scoffs. 

Akamaru barks at her. 

“Thank you for the introduction, Akamaru. I would like to make a speech. I am so proud of everyone here who has made the journey to Jonin!” Lee is holding back tears as he pours shots. “Neji, I am proud of you. Shikamaru, I am proud of you. Temari, I am proud of you. Kankuro, I am proud of you--”

“Aren’t you forgetting yourself?” Tenten says dryly. 

“A true Jonin remembers to be humble!”

“Just pour the shots, man,” says Kankuro, and the group erupts with laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of them just being cute at the waterfall and having a day off really makes my heart warm <3 Thank you for reading!! If you ever wanna send me headcanons or anything totally say hey on my tumblr shadowstrangle!!


	4. Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not going to lie i finished this chapter a LITTLE BIT DRUNK so if it doesn't make sense I'm truly sorry but!!!! enjoy anyway  
> this has truly become a dumb little pleasure project for me, kankiba is so fucking fun to write

Lee measures out a shot for everyone with calculated precision. Shikamaru’s rule holds true as all the Jonin toast first. Only three people don’t make a face at the alcohol- Neji, Kiba, and Kankuro. 

Temari’s eyes flicker over to her brother after she’s taken her shot as well, but she doesn’t say anything. This isn’t a conversation she should have with him in front of all their friends, and he seems to be having responsible fun, but the way he drinks sake like it’s water doesn’t sit right with her. She’ll keep an eye on him. 

Sometimes the sand siblings forget that they actually have friends besides each other. All their lives they had been trained to believe otherwise. For Kankuro, it’s a healthy change from Suna’s grimy bar scene.

Within a half an hour, Neji and Tenten have already left for home citing that they have a meeting tomorrow, but everyone knows they’ll be in Tenten’s bed. Ino’s cheeks are pink and she’s having the longest conversation with Shino that she’s probably ever had and Sai seems jealous. Naruto’s head is in Hinata’s lap while he drunkenly exalts the process of learning the Rasengan. Kankuro is sitting back laughing at almost everything that comes out of Lee’s mouth- he’s not even drunk yet, not off of one shot. He’s just enjoying himself. 

Kankuro meets his match when Kiba reaches forward for the bottle, shaking it to see how much is left inside. “Little less than half,” he grins. His canines stick out when he smiles. “Anyone?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” grunts Kankuro, and leans back on his elbows. 

Kiba is holding the bottle out, pouring extra for whoever shoves their shot glass at him. Kankuro does the courteous thing and waits for everyone else, but he holds his out as well. 

“ _ There _ we go! Cheers,” says Kiba, and they all clink their glasses together again. 

It usually takes three for Kankuro to feel much of anything, but the alcohol’s percentage is unmistakably higher than Suna liquor and he’s blinking slower than he normally would. Instead of another shot, he switches to a beer. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

“So why does your hood have cat ears?” Kankuro doesn’t realize anyone’s actually talking to him until he feels a nudge on the side of his arm. 

He turns his head to see Kiba still next to him, clearly not bored of his presence, and intently waiting for the answer to his question. 

“They’re not cat ears,” says Kankuro, “that’s just what it looks like. It’s a puppeteer thing.”

“So it’s not just for a bad hair day?” Kiba is the kind of funny that makes you laugh even if you don’t want to. Nine times out of ten, his face makes the joke more than his words do. 

“I have a bad hair day every day,” jokes Kankuro in response, ruffling his hair. He really does need it cut. 

“I’m growing mine out. I want to look like Senju Hashirama,” Kiba says, completely serious. 

“It suits you then, right? Since he was Hokage.”

“Now  _ that’s  _ the attitude I’m looking for!” Kiba shouts joyfully, tips his head back with another one of those hearty laughs that Kankuro is starting to not only anticipate, but enjoy. Kankuro feels his hand clap his shoulder. 

Nearby on the blanket they’re sharing, Shikamaru is following Temari’s eyes. “Kankuro looks fine to me. Have him and Kiba always been friends?” 

“Not that I really know of,” Temari says, “He comes here even less than I do.”

“Huh.”

“Kiba seems fun.”

“Yeah.”

The sun is settling into the horizon now. Whatever warm orange light has illuminated any of their skin is starting to fade. “We should go out and play cards somewhere,” Kiba says to no one in particular. 

How does this guy pick up Kankuro’s weekend activities like he’s reading his mind?

“You guys do that?” Kankuro asks, curiosity peaked.

“Kankuro, we have a meeting in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t make yourself sick,” Temari pipes up as a warning, and he waves his hand at her. 

“I didn’t even know you guys gamble down here,” he continues with a grin. 

“Kiba doesn’t gamble. He wastes his money,” Shino’s voice looms from where Ino is laying on his shoulder. He looks rather stiff behind his sunglasses. 

“Hey, shut up! If you’re so good, why don’t you come?” Kiba jeers. His words are a little bit slurred. 

“Of course I’m coming. Who else will walk you home?” Shino responds. Akamaru whines in agreement. 

“I would like to come to ensure there is no cheating in the competition! Also, I would like some of the spicy noodles they serve downtown!” Lee raises his hand. 

“That’s two teams,” Kankuro says. “If anyone else wants to go, we’ll need two people so we have six.”

“I’m  _ not _ going. The last thing I want to do is get drunk with a bunch of rowdy boys,” Ino scoffs. 

“Hinata and I!” Naruto’s obnoxious voice cuts between all of them, and he raises his hand high. 

Even in the dark, Hinata’s face looks bright red. “Naruto, I don’t even know how to p--”

“No worries! I do!”

“Hinata, you don’t want to go. They’ll get drunk and loud and stupid,” Ino points out. 

“Shikamaru and I will go,” Temari interrupts, and Shikamaru looks surprised, but also pleasantly attracted to how Temari wants to play cards with the guys. He wouldn’t have volunteered for them, but he doesn’t necessarily mind going. 

He also knows her well enough to realize that she’s not going for the game. 

“I’m not playing cards against Shikamaru,” Kiba complains. 

“It’s a drag to play a game that you know you’ll lose, isn’t it?”

“You can beat everyone in this room but me,” Kankuro says to Shikamaru with a smirk. 

“Only because you go out every other night,” Temari snorts. 

“You’re on my team, then,” Kiba whispers rather loudly in Kankuro’s ear. 

~

The mother in Temari insists that the boys have to go home and change if they’re going out. Although they’re reluctant, their hair has dried awkwardly and most of their clothes are either wet or covered in mud near the riverbank. 

They meet back downtown at around nine. What Kankuro loves about Konoha’s night life is that it always starts and ends late. The lower half of the village lights up. 

Kankuro has only redone a few stripes of face paint. Around his eyes, and a few stripes on each of his cheeks. He feels strange without it, though he leaves his hood at home. His hair, usually thick and pin straight, has actually got some wave to it because of the humidity. It had dried out of his eyes and swept back after the lake, and he quite likes the look. 

What he loves about Konoha summers, in addition, is that you don’t have to wear a coat at night like you would in the desert. Kankuro can walk around in a t-shirt and be perfectly fine, and he takes advantage of this. Plus, he often forgets he has nice arms. He should show them off every now and then (even if he tells himself it’s for no one in particular.)

Naruto is late because Hinata had been dragging him away from Ichiraku, but they start towards a local shinobi bar that Kiba and Shino lead the way to. It’s cool that locals aren’t allowed in, Kankuro thinks. You have to show your ID and your headband to get in. 

When they’re all seated in a booth that wraps around a large card table, Kiba enthusiastically orders them another round because he’d swiped Shino’s wallet earlier, and they start setting up for the game. They’re seated in the partnerships they’d declared earlier: Shino and Lee, Naruto and Hinata, Shikamaru and Temari, and at the left side of the table, Kankuro and Kiba. 

“Ugh, Hinata, you made Shino pay for that?” Kiba scrunches his nose at the red drink placed in front of her. 

“What- what’s wrong with a vodka cranberry?”

“Nothing. Smell just makes me sick,” Kiba says, shaking his head. 

“I hate those too,” Kankuro laughs, surprised. “I mostly drink dark liquor, anyway, but sake’s always the cheapest.”

“I hate IPA’s, too,” they both say at the same time, and they share an incredulous laugh. 

“Come by here more often, huh?” Kiba grins, wiping his mouth after another shot. It’s not like Kiba doesn’t have friends that share his interests, but the amount of time’s he’s had an animated conversation with anyone like this before is low. He hadn’t known Kankuro was such an interesting guy. 

“We’ll see how good your card playing is before I make that promise,” answers Kankuro, as he begins to deal the cards out. Their waitress sets a whiskey sour in front of him. For once, he’s so into the game and his company that he ignores it for now. 

The card game is intense. Shino and Lee last a surprisingly long time, considering they’re sober. Naruto and Hinata are out within the first three rounds. Shikamaru and Temari are ultimately the ones to beat, though, as Temari is nearly sober and Shikamaru’s IQ carries them well into the last few rounds. 

Kiba’s pretty good at cards. He plays risky, Kankuro has noticed, is always playing interesting cards and makes moves that Kankuro normally wouldn’t gamble on. It’s refreshing to watch as a player and as a person in general. Kankuro believes that you can learn a lot about somebody based on how they play cards (and the kind of alcohol they drink.) 

They’re into the final rounds, now. Everyone watching is leaned in intently, as the losers are slated to buy the last round of drinks. 

Kankuro shows his cards to Kiba, motioning to one of them he was expecting to play. “We can’t lose with this one.”

“Are you sure?” Kiba is thinking, one of his canines digging into his lower lip absentmindedly. “That’s definitely a gamble.”

“I think we should play it.”

Kiba pauses. Kankuro has been right so far. The game has gone right up their alley a multitude of times tonight. 

They’re practically shoulder to shoulder, whispering intensely about all the possible moves they can make. Shikamaru and Temari have hardly talked at all, instead exchanging smirks with each other as they play their cards. They’re a couple after all. Kankuro supposes they’ve reached that point. 

“Are you two going to play, or would you like to talk for another hour?” Temari drawls, her eyes only visible above the little fan of cards in her hand. 

“Shut up,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. He’s practically one of the only people on this earth that can get away with saying that to Temari. “We’re playing.”

“Yeah, we’re playing,” adds Kiba, plucking a card from his hand and slapping it onto the table. “How do you like this?”

“Easily countered,” Shikamaru says dully, setting a card on top of it. 

“They’re gonna win. They’re gonna win--” Naruto whispers excitedly, both fists on top of the table. 

“Are they?” Kankuro hums, makes a show of pulling his final card. “You’re forgetting who you’re playing with.”

The card he puts down next makes the table go silent, and jaws drop. It’s a risky move, but the way Shikamaru places his cards down indicates that he can’t possibly beat it. 

“Did Kankuro win?” Rock Lee asks in barely a whisper. 

“I don’t know, did he?” Kankuro grins, leaning back against the booth. 

“He  _ fuckin’ _ did!” Kiba yells, holding his drink up, his free arm messily wrapping around Kankuro’s neck in nothing but a congratulatory hug. “That’s right! We did it! We won!”

“Kiba-kun, you’ve had a few,” Hinata laughs softly. “However, congratulations on your game. You and Kankuro-san make a great team.”

Kankuro is startled by the sudden pull, laughing along with Kiba. “I told you we would! Who goes out too much now, Temari? All that practice paid off-”

“--we’ll be taking our free drinks now, too!” Kiba whoops. 

“You know what? I think it’s getting late. I promised Hinata’s dad I’d get her home,” Naruto feigns a big yawn, even stretching his arms up for emphasis. Hinata giggles into her empty drink.

“You’re a little cheat,” Kankuro points at him, but it’s not that serious. He honestly expected everyone to couple up by the end of the game anyway. 

“Is that what we played on? I don’t quite remember,” Shikamaru responds teasingly, already rising from the table as well after throwing a couple bills on it. “As I recall, Temari and I have plans, too.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Kankuro,” is what Temari says, rising from the table with Shikamaru. “If I hear you’ve made a fool of yourself in the morning I’m going to beat you up.”

“I love you, too,” says Kankuro, holding his drink up to her as if to toast. Just because Temari can’t say it doesn’t mean he can’t, either. 

Kankuro truly, genuinely believes that he has a whole lot of love to give. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person for it yet. He’s not either of his siblings.

“Sisters are cool, huh? They’re like your mom, but you can call them when you get drunk and they’ll walk you home,” Kiba says, wiping his mouth after some beer dribbles down his chin. 

Kankuro smiles. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

“As much as I would like to stay and be your sober monitor, Guy Sensei and I are scheduled to train at five in the morning tomorrow.” Not only does Lee stand up, but he bows respectfully. “It was wonderful to see you! Please enjoy your night and get home safely.”

**TRACK 4 : MAKE YOU MINE - PUBLIC (ft. Misterwives)**

Kankuro waves. Shino follows silently. He doesn’t need to say very much. There’s a bug on the edge of Kiba’s shirt, anyway. It’ll let him know if anything goes wrong. 

There’s more room under the table now that everyone has gone home, and Kankuro suddenly feels a heavy, furry weight on his feet. Akamaru has found another spot. 

Kiba hasn’t listened to a word Lee said. In fact, he’s transfixed on the cards still in Kankuro’s hand. “You paint your nails?”

Kankuro looks down at his hand. “Yeah.”

“It matches your face,” Kiba says thoughtfully, and tips back the last of whatever was in his mug. He’s spent much of the evening looking at it.

“You going home, too?” Kankuro asks. 

“Me? No, I’m drunk. Can’t come into my mom’s house like this. She’ll make me sleep outside.”

Kankuro laughs, “I’m only tipsy.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“What is?”

“You’re buying the next round, cat ears.”

Typically by this point in the night Kankuro would be the last one left at the bar. It’s exciting and refreshing to have some company, especially somebody that wants to have just as much fun as he does. Finally, he feels like he’s found somebody on the same wavelength as him. 

He just smiles, and orders two beers. It seems both of them are done with liquor for tonight, and he thinks he actually wants to remember this in the morning. It’s the first night in a while that he doesn’t really want to forget.

“Now let me see if I can beat  _ you, _ ” Kiba says, already reaching for the cards. Some of them are sticky with alcohol.

“You sure about that?” 

“Are you kidding? Compared to my IQ, Shikamaru has a learning disability.” 

It’s Kankuro’s turn to laugh now for once, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle and his teeth show. “Maybe just stick to being Hokage.”

“I’ll do both,” Kiba says. His tongue is between his teeth; he’s drunk and silly as he deals Kankuro a hand. 

Kiba loses four straight times. He’ll argue it’s because he’s drunk, but by the time Kankuro finishes his mug, he’s in pretty bad shape himself. 

“You were cheating! You were cheating. That’s the only possible way!” Kiba jeers, and Kankuro’s sides are starting to hurt from the way he’s been laughing. 

“I think I did read somewhere that dogs get offended if you don’t let them win,” Kankuro teases.

Kiba has this pout of his that Kankuro has seen many times tonight, petulant and handsome all at once, with a little bit of his tooth hanging over his lip. It makes an appearance in this moment. 

Kankuro isn’t sure how much money he’s spent tonight, but he places another bill on the table just to be sure he’s covered their tab. “Good thing we weren’t playing on money. You’d be broke,” he says. 

Kiba is still grumbling to himself as he gathers his things. Akamaru has risen from yet another nap- it’s late and he’s sleepy- and he’s ready to go as well. Kiba trips on his way out of the booth. Instead of falling, he feels a firm hand around his bicep.

“Careful, stupid. Gonna break your nose like that,” Kankuro says, pulling him back. Akamaru’s eyes are squinted as if he’s smiling.

Kiba laughs. The tips of his ears are red. “I didn’t see the step!”

Kankuro has never been the one sober enough to walk somebody home. “You good to walk?” He asks.

Kiba shoos him off as they walk out of the bar, “I’m fine.” 

However, as soon as they walk outside and he feels how much chillier the evening has gotten, Kiba stumbles. Like clockwork, Kankuro’s hand is on his arm again to steady him.

“Thought you said you could walk,” he chuckles. Kankuro’s not exactly walking in so much of a straight line either, but he handles alcohol so well that it’s difficult to get him wasted.

“And I’m walkin’ just fine,” Kiba insists, as his arm finds itself at the small of Kankuro’s back. “Just gotta keep me up is all.”

“Right.”

Now that they’re walking side by side, Kankuro notices he’s a whole head taller than Kiba- broader, too. Kankuro has his father’s genes entirely- none of the elegance or daintiness Karura passed onto Gaara and Temari. 

Nobody gives them a second look as they walk through the village. Plenty of people are on their way home- the nightclubbers on second shift or the teenagers enjoying a weekend. Bluntly, Kankuro isn’t important here. And he adores it.

Kiba lives near the border of the village, presumably because there’s lots of open land and his family needs room to breed their dogs. The lights are off in his house, and it makes him breathe a sigh of relief. “I think I can sneak in without my mom hearing,” he laughs quietly, as they stop by the door. 

“You’re a shinobi, aren’t you?”

“Something like that.”

Kiba’s arm finally drops from Kankuro’s middle. He truly hadn’t realized how close they were, and the thirty seconds that they stare at each other now is nothing but awkward. 

Kankuro’s jaw is tense, the shadows in it enhanced by streetlights. His face paint is untouched compared to how it had been when they were swimming, and Kiba doesn’t remember his hair ever being this wavy. Kiba is unashamed to stare. If anything, he’ll blame it on the alcohol.

Kankuro suddenly wishes he were drunker so he could appreciate the outline of Kiba’s tattoos on his face. He wants to take a second look at the sharp corners of his eyes, the point his nose makes, and maybe watch him laugh another time. 

Instead, he holds out a fist. “I’ll see you around.”

Kiba blinks at him owlishly, his knuckles thumping against Kankuro’s. “Yeah. See you around. Thanks for the drinks.” He hadn’t paid a single penny tonight. He walks closer to the doorway with Akamaru in tow, and the dog whines as if to remind him of something. 

“Kankuro,” he calls out, looking back at him. “You got Kazekage stuff tomorrow?”

“Not until the afternoon,” answers Kankuro. 

“Do you wake up early?”

“Not at all.”

Kiba grins at this. “Akamaru and I train at around nine. At night,” he clarifies, “so it’s cooler. If you want, you can come blow off some steam after all those dumb meetings.”

Kankuro’s eyes widen. “Uh- yeah. Yeah. Sure.”

Akamaru, rather accomplished, wags his tail and pads up the steps.

“I’ll see you then,” Kiba says, raising a hand to wave to him as he follows. 

Kankuro waves back. It’s only when he’s halfway down Kiba’s street that he realizes Kiba had walked all the way up his path and his front porch steps by himself without a single wobble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read between the lines the true matchmaker here is Akamaru  
> Come say hello to me on tumblr @shadowstrangle :)


	5. Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobia & physical abuse, mention of alcohol abuse

When Kankuro walks back to his hotel that night, his mind isn’t just cloudy with alcohol. There’s a lot more that sits unsteadily with him as he walks through the streets of Konoha, hands in his pockets. What had just happened? 

Truthfully, he knows. With absolutely all of his heart he knows. He’d simply stumbled upon someone that he genuinely _liked_ , and he’s been conditioned to believe that he very simply doesn’t deserve that.

Only one person in the entire world might have known what Kankuro can rarely admit to himself- and he’s dead.

_SUNAGAKURE (16 YEARS AGO)_

_“Papa, what happens when two people get married?”_

_Rasa looks over from the bookshelf he’s searching down at his son. At six years old he’s Rasa’s spitting image, with short brown hair and curious eyes, looking up at his father intently. Kankuro likes to follow him around with every question in the book._

_“Let’s see,” Rasa closes a book thoughtfully, formally. “I suppose it would be a man and a woman dedicating their lives to each other.”_

_“Like you and mama?”_

_“Exactly like that. Are you reading that book about ninjutsu or just holding it for show?”_

_“I’m reading it.” The small, inexperienced hands of a child fumble to open it. The words are much too long and Kankuro’s not a very big reader. “So you and mama got married because you’re a boy and a girl. Right?”_

_Rasa pauses. “That’s not the only reason, but I suppose it’s one of them. Your mother and I got married because we loved each other. Why?”_

_Kankuro hesitates, “Granny Chiyo was very upset this morning. She said two boys were asking the council if they could get married. So I figured maybe it’s different, with boys?”_

_Rasa snorts. He’s well aware of the recent political discourse. “It is different. It’s disgusting.”_

_“Why?”_

_“It’s shameful.”_

_“But isn’t two boys the same as a boy and a girl? If they love each other?”_

_The room falls silent. As a parent, Rasa feels responsible for teaching his son. The next sound that fills the study is his palm slapping against Kankuro’s cheek, leaving a red mark behind._

_“You are the Kazekage’s son. Do you understand me?”_

_Tears are welling up. “Yes.”_

_“Good. Then get that garbage out of your head. I won’t have you talking like that and dishonoring our family. Are we clear?”_

_A sniffle. “Yes.”_

_“Yes, what?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

  
  
  


All he sees is his father that evening when he takes off his face paint. Although for years he had been jealous that he never inherited the magnet release, he’s glad he doesn’t have those circles around his eyes. He doesn’t need another reminder of Rasa. He doesn’t need any, in fact. 

He feels like Gaara tonight, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to come but never receiving it. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees moments of that evening that fill him with light. 

Then he turns over onto his side and reminds himself he can’t possibly act on anything that happened tonight. Whatever he felt must have been misinterpreted. Kankuro has seen how village elders view people like him. He’s seen the way it’s even ingrained into Suna culture. Sunan people turn their noses up. 

He closes his eyes. Temari’s voice echoes in his head that he has a meeting in the afternoon. 

~

Hana has to help Kiba to bed that night. He thought he was better off than he was, but when he trips over Akamaru and knocks over a chair he figures it’s better to let her help him than wake their mother. 

“Where were you, anyway?” She asks, because Kiba is covering his mouth to keep from laughing as they walk up the stairs together.

“Just got some drinks with friends. Nothing crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“I met somebody. Not, like. I met somebody. I knew them from a couple years back. We took the Chunin exams together. The first time.”

“Is she cute?”

“He’s alright.”

They’ve never really had this conversation, Hana and Kiba, but she wonders if there’s even anything to talk about. 

“Does he like dogs?” She stays by the door, watching to make sure Kiba makes it into his bed. “Take your shoes off,” she adds.

Kiba lets his shoes hit the floor. “Yeah. He does.”

“Good,” is all Hana says. “Set an alarm. Don’t sleep too late, mom will get mad.”

Kiba grins. “I know.”

~

It’s rare for Kankuro to wake up in the morning and not feel so much as a headache. He’d slept heavily, and he’s actually not late for the meeting. Temari is pleasantly surprised when he arrives on time- even showered and put together.

“Look who got up at a decent time this morning.” It’s just the two of them walking up to the Hokage’s quarters. Gaara, on the other hand, is late. This is not new. 

“You say this like I’m usually late. Wrong brother.”

“He’ll never change,” laughs Temari. “How was cards? Did anyone else stay after Shikamaru and I left?”

“Just Kiba.”

“You two seemed to get along well. I don’t remember you two being friends.”

“Me either,” Kankuro confesses with a shrug. “Turns out we have a lot in common.”

“I’m glad. I’d rather you hang out with him than bring some loser girl into your bed,” says Temari. 

“I don’t do that,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. 

Temari snorts, “Okay. Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“I heard you took a _hooker_ home a few weeks ago.”

“Who told you that?!”

“You’re the Kazekage’s brother, Kankuro, don’t act like people don’t recognize you in public.”

“Shut up,” Kankuro says exasperatedly. 

“I’m just saying. Keep drinking yourself to death every week and you’re bound to act like an idiot,” Temari drawls. 

“Are you trying to irritate me?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“How about you don’t?”

They walk in silence for another minute or so. Temari has what she wants to say welled up in her chest, but she isn’t sure if she can let it past her lips. “I’m worried about you,” she finally says. 

Kankuro’s brows furrow. “What?”

“You heard me. You drink a lot. And you’re by yourself all the time. And I feel like--”

“Temari,” Kankuro stops. “We’re not talking about this because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Do you see what I mean? You don’t talk to either of us and you act like this, and then you expect me to not be concerned--”

“Do I look like I have a drinking problem? How many drinks did I have last night? Three? Did I act like an idiot? I don’t think so. I can control myself, I’m not a dumbass,” Kankuro interjects.

“When you’re ready to talk to me, you can, but don’t stand here and yell at me; I’ll smack your stupid mouth right off your face,” Temari snaps. Her fingers itch for her fan, but all three of them really need to stop fighting when they have issues. “Imagine yelling at your sister when she’s telling you she cares. You’re such a little bitch, Kankuro.”

Kankuro’s jaw tenses. If this were Gaara, he’d have knocked him into the ground by now, but he won’t dare lay a hand on Temari outside of sparring.He is most certainly not their father in that regard. He won’t act on what he’s feeling, even though Temari gets under his skin in just the right way. It hurts even more because he knows she just loves him, that’s all- and maybe it would benefit him to know he has somebody rooting for him- but he can’t possibly talk to her.

“Just don’t worry about it, okay? I’m all good. I… appreciate you looking out for me. I really do,” Kankuro says. He feels stiff walking next to her. 

Temari is quiet. She doesn’t believe him.

~

“Look who decided to show up! Hey, cat ears.”

Akamaru barks happily when Kankuro comes into view of the training ground. Kiba has already been there for an hour or so. It’s evident by the sweat slicking back his short hair, and his shirt and jacket tossed to the side in the grass. 

The weather in Konoha that day is unbearable. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so the air is thick and heavy, the heat so high that just walking outside is a chore. 

“I thought I would come say hi. What are you working on?” Asks Kankuro, hands in his pockets as he comes up to the two of them. He almost hadn’t come at all, but this has turned into sort of a guilty pleasure for him. Besides, it’s just training. 

“Combo attacks,” Kiba says, motioning to Akamaru. He’s panting, laying on the ground and taking a rest. “How’d all those meetings go?”

Kankuro takes the strap that holds his scrolls, setting it on the ground. “One of them was stupid. The second one was cool. We designed the obstacle course for the exams. It’s a poison forest this year, so they actually wanted my opinion instead of telling me to shut up.”

“Wouldn’t they have gotten a poison specialist? I hate those guys. They really know how to fuckin’ get you,” Kiba shakes his head. 

Kankuro laughs. “I am a poison specialist.”

Kiba blanches, “Oh.” Quickly, he reclaims his bravado. “You know what? I still stand by what I said. You’re just a creepy little scientist!”

“Totally,” Kankuro laughs in agreement. He bends down to greet Akamaru, who appreciates the scratch behind his ear and subsequently rolls onto his back for a belly rub. 

“Now that you’re here he thinks he can be lazy,” Kiba says, rolling his eyes, but they _are_ taking a break. “We’re going on a run after this, Akamaru.”

Akamaru is busy having his belly rubbed, and does not respond. 

“Around the village?” Kankuro asks.

“Yeah. It’s a couple miles. You coming, or are you worried I’ll be faster than you?”

“I don’t run,” Kankuro snorts, “but I guarantee I’m faster than you.”

Kankuro _hates_ running. Of course, as a shinobi endurance training is essential, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. Besides, his fighting style doesn’t necessarily rely on his own personal speed, so he’s never made it an extreme focus. 

~

Kiba wins. Kankuro had expected this would happen, as Kiba is generally smaller and lighter and probably goes on one of these five mile runs every day. Both of them are drenched in sweat when they come back to the training ground, and Kankuro tosses his hood and shirt over by Kiba’s. 

Kiba thought his mouth was dry from running, but watching Kankuro pull his shirt over his head has him thinking something different entirely. 

“What?” Kankuro asks. 

“Nothing,” Kiba says quickly, looks away and clears his throat. “Just- can’t believe you lost that race.”

Kankuro laces his fingers behind his head, arms up to catch his breath. His arms are large; he’s stocky in general, but this pose does wonders for his biceps. “I had a feeling I might lose if I was up against two dogs.”

“Now we’re one to one. I was still mad over cards.” Kiba’s eyes return to Kankuro. He has a scar over the left side of his chest. He wonders what it’s from. “We should spar sometime.”

“It would have to be taijutsu. I’d kill you otherwise.”

“Don’t get so cocky!” 

“Kiba, I use poison.”

“Oh,” Kiba pauses, “right.” He laughs childishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, and then brightens. “Arm wrestle me. That’ll be the next one.”

It’s Kankuro’s turn to laugh. “Why do you get yourself into games you can’t win?”

“Who says? All you tall guys are the same,” Kiba huffs, and looks for a shorter training stump. “Right there. Akamaru, you have to ref.”

Akamaru grunts, but stands so that way he can be between them as they sit across from each other. 

“Are you a righty or a lefty?” Kiba asks. 

“I’m right handed, but it doesn’t really matter,” Kankuro answers.

“Then we’re doing left.”

“I just said it didn’t matter. Are you trying to find my weakness?”

“Shut up!” Kiba puts his left hand up, fingers wiggling so Kankuro will put his up, too. 

Kankuro’s hand is bigger than his. His fingers are thick compared to Kiba’s slim, nimble hands, callused from Beast Mimicry.

“Stop flexing and acting like an ass!” Kiba gripes, squeezes Kankuro’s hand in retaliation. “Let’s go!”

“I’m not flexing,” laughs Kankuro, “Okay. Three, two, one…”

Akamaru’s bark signals ‘go.’

Kiba proves to be a worthy opponent, but not one that Kankuro can’t beat. In fact, Kankuro’s weakness is watching the muscles in Kiba’s forearm, or the way his brows furrow in concentration. He’s more interested in the way Kiba has a little snaggled incisor hanging over his lip when he focuses, or how sharp his jaw is when he frowns. 

With a _thump,_ Kankuro’s hand is landing over Kiba’s on the stump. Another bark from Akamaru proclaims the winner. 

“You’re kidding!” Kiba protests. Kankuro looks cool as ever, completely unphased with the exception of a cocky grin. Kiba supposes his arms are that big for a reason.

“Now we’re two to one,” Kankuro declares.

Neither of them mention how their hands are still interlocked over the stump. Kankuro’s eyes flicker over to them, and he clears his throat, pulling his hand away. 

“I’ve got a two point challenge for you,” Kiba says suddenly, and he rests his chin on his hand, a lazy smirk on his face. “It’ll put you in the lead.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE I am literally so sorry for that cliffhanger but it was so spicy I had to  
> Hope everyone is having a good weekend! Leave a comment or come say hey on my tumblr @shadowstrangle, I would love to read other people's work as well! Thanks for reading :)


	6. Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: boys makin' out and alcohol abuse
> 
> I can't even write notes y'all just have to read this I-

Kankuro’s pet peeve is people who freeze on the battlefield. He hates weak, anxious fighters who don’t have enough confidence in themselves to intuitively finish the job (perhaps this is why he harbors disdain towards children, the weakest kind of all.)

But at this moment, he doesn’t feel like his body can move. Suddenly, he is the kind of person that he hates the most- frozen with something terror and bewilderment all in one. 

Kiba is looking at him smugly with no regrets. He seems to do anything and everything with his whole entire chest. He doesn’t see Kankuro’s silence as weakness or rejection or anything in between. “Well?” Briefly, he wonders if Kankuro knows dogs can smell fear. 

Kankuro’s eyes are wide and still locked with Kiba’s. It truly is fight or flight, and god, if he doesn’t do it now,  _ he’s never going to do it.  _

All in one fluid movement, Kankuro leans over from where he’s sitting across from Kiba. With his hand, he cups the side of Kiba’s face and then presses their lips together. 

Kiba’s lips curl into a smile against Kankuro’s, as if he’s won. Kankuro’s hand is slippery against the sweat on his skin, and their lips even more so. 

The only thing Kankuro can manage to think about is that he doesn’t want to stop. He’s kissed lots of girls- probably so many that he can’t even count- but none have felt quite like this. This feels like his first kiss, the first right one, even at 22. Even the feel of Kiba’s jaw under his palm is immensely different than that of a woman- it’s harder, fuller, sharper. Kankuro can feel the shadow of a beard, and it stirs something in his chest. 

They find a natural pause; a moment to pull away. When they do, Kankuro doesn’t know what to say. 

“Two points,” Kiba announces with a big, goofy grin, breaking the silence. He smiles with all his teeth. Kankuro thinks it’s charming. 

Normally, Kankuro would have a wisecrack by now. He doesn’t. For the first time today he’s thankful for the heat that’s stained his cheeks with red all day. “I’ve never done that before,” he finally admits. 

“Done what? Kissed somebody? Man, how old are you--”

“No, stupid,” Kankuro huffs, “kissed a guy.” Oh, he hates being vulnerable. 

“Ahhh,” Kiba smiles. “Did you like it?”

“What?”

“‘Cause it seemed like you liked it.”

“I-”

“ _ I _ liked it.”

Even in a moment like this, Kiba is absolutely running his mouth, and Kankuro suddenly thinks this is one of his most attractive qualities. It’s unconsciously comforting, the way Kiba keeps every second flowing past him so smoothly that his brain doesn’t stop to scream. 

Kiba is sitting expectantly and waiting for Kankuro’s answer, cross-legged still with his hands in front of him. He’s not afraid of eye contact- he’ll stare Kankuro down until he talks again. 

“I liked it too,” answers Kankuro with a laugh. 

“I knew it,” Kiba chirps. He sets his elbows down on the training stump that had been between them, resting his chin atop them. Tilting his head playfully, he looks up at Kankuro. “I like hanging out with you.”

It’s the simplest compliment Kankuro has ever received, and yet he thinks it might be the most important one. It’s past his looks, nothing about his body, no fake quips about his attitude or his bravado. It’s point-blank reassurance that someone genuinely appreciates his company for what it is, and that feeling spreads across his cheeks, up to his ears and the back of his neck. 

“Keep hanging out with me, then,” Kankuro replies, tilting his head the same way as Kiba’s to look down at him. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Same as today. Meetings in the morning, I’m free in the evening.”

Kiba beams, pushing himself up to his feet. “So it’s settled. We’ll do something fun tomorrow.”

~

It’s dark by the time they start walking home. It’s also a week day which means that kids have school and parents have work, so the streets are rather empty. 

Kankuro has Kiba’s fingers laced between his. There’s been an unspoken shift between them, though not dynamic. In fact, they fall into conversation just as easy as they normally would have, talking and joking just as they had before. Except now, Kankuro feels the weight of Kiba’s hand in his, can feel smooth tanned skin and bony fingers, fine barely-there hairs against the side of his thumb.

Akamaru walks in front of them, his white fur a pleasant contrast against the inky blues of the impending evening. 

“That’s where you’re staying?” Kiba gawks when they approach Kankuro’s hotel. Kankuro never really knows or cares where their accommodations are. They usually revolve around wherever a village decides to place Gaara, so they tend to be nicer. 

“I guess? Why are you looking at it like that?”

Kiba laughs, “It’s five stars. I didn’t know you were  _ vacationing _ here.”

“I guess it’s nice. Perks of being the Kazekage’s brother,” Kankuro says. 

“No kidding,” Kiba marvels, looking up at it. 

“You gotta be up early tomorrow?” Kankuro asks. 

“Huh?” Kiba is distracted by the sudden change in subject. “Not really, no. Why?”

“How many times do you have a five star hotel room and somebody to share it with?”

“Ah, shit. At least let me go home and shower first.”

~

True to his promise, Kiba is back within the hour (Kankuro is thankful for the time to clean up after their training as well). Everything feels natural when they’re together. When Kiba walks into his suite and starts running his mouth about the interior, Kankuro feels a sense of calm. 

In the hour that he’s had to himself, he’s done a lot of thinking, a lot of staring in the mirror, a lot of wondering if what he’s just agreed to is right. He’s been hanging out with Kiba for a day and a half and he’s invited him into his room? Into his bed?  _ As if Kankuro knows what to do if the evening moves to the bed? _

Maybe he feels differently now because no one can see him. The only person that has any idea of what’s going on would be Akamaru, and he’s already found himself in a cozy spot on the couch on the other side of the suite. He has immense social sense.

However, Kankuro has gained some confidence. Who is he, if not the best date in Suna? He reminds himself that there are times when girls have fought over him. He’s funny, he’s handsome, he’s smart. Right? Even if he holds Kiba to a much higher regard already. 

“What are you going on about?” Kankuro asks, a shadow of fond in his voice when he comes out of the bathroom to greet Kiba. 

He looks much softer than earlier, clearly fresh out of the shower and wearing casual clothes. “I was saying that the marble is way over the top-- hey, no paint.” He truly does have the attention span of a dog, Kankuro thinks, as Kiba motions to his cheeks. 

“It  _ does _ come off,” laughs Kankuro. 

“Makes ya look handsome.”

“You can definitely go on about that,” teases Kankuro as he brushes past Kiba to shut the hotel room door. It hadn’t closed all the way the first time Kiba had shut it. 

“You didn’t have so much of an ego a few hours ago. Last time I checked you were nervous to kiss me,” Kiba shoots back. 

“You caught me off guard!”

“And you’re on your guard now? What changed?”

“What changed in the last few hours is that I haven’t been able to think about anything other than kissing you again,” Kankuro says. 

“That’s what happens when you’re a good kisser like I am,” Kiba responds airily, turning to face Kankuro. 

Without preamble, he takes Kankuro by the front of his shirt and tugs him down, murmuring “Kiss me for real this time.”

Sinking into Kiba’s touch, Kankuro realizes he has him all to himself. There’s nobody here to look at them or interrupt, no little voice in his head offering commentary about his moral character. When he’s with Kiba, all he can think about is that it’s right. 

Typically Kankuro wouldn’t be surprised with how quickly things move after that, but with Kiba, everything is different; electric. Kiba kisses with an established attitude that only men have- his lips are firm, his movements confident. He’s solely an animal of instinct, Kankuro has noticed. 

Kankuro’s hands fall to Kiba’s waist. It’s slim and all muscle, sinew rippling under Kankuro’s touch. Kiba’s hand is still fisted in his shirt while their lips slot together. Right now, Kankuro feels so selfish that his skin drips with it. And he doesn’t care. 

Kiba is the first good thing he’s allowed himself to have in a very long time. 

This is all that’s flowing through his head while Kiba leans up to kiss his neck. Kankuro feels nothing but heat, certainly _this_ had been what was missing this whole time. 

He tips his head back, selfishly allowing himself to indulge when he knows later he’ll determine that he shouldn’t have. He doesn’t have to overthink this right now: in fact, he’d rather not think at all. 

“You’re so hot,” is what he breathes, eyes closed while Kiba’s teeth graze his collarbone. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Kankuro’s mind is cloudy while Kiba sucks a mark under his collar bone. It’s nothing that can’t be hidden by a shirt, but Kankuro couldn’t care less because all he wants is for Kiba’s teeth to dig into his skin again. 

However, his craving for Kiba doesn’t top his craving for control. Kankuro pulls away and one hand leaves Kiba’s waist to push him back gently. 

Kankuro hears two things then: one, the soft thump of Kiba’s back hitting the wall behind him. Two, the breath of pleasure that escapes his pink lips when Kankuro takes the lead. And that’s when it clicks. 

“That’s what you like?” Kankuro murmurs, one hand staying on the wall, planted near Kiba’s head, the other holding him firm by the hips. Their noses are still inches apart. 

“Shut up,” Kiba whispers, a flush dusting his cheeks. 

Kankuro just grins. “I’ll remember that,” he quips, drinking in the visual of Kiba looking up at him with wide, dark eyes. His mouth is slightly ajar, the glint of white teeth just barely showing behind his parted lips. 

Kankuro’s hands move to take each of Kiba’s. With his hands, he pins each of Kiba’s to either side of him on the wall. He watches Kiba’s breath catch in his chest, the slightest sound coming out. 

“Fuck,” utters Kiba, eyes fixed on Kankuro’s. He’s smug, looking down at Kiba like he’s finally pulled one over on him, his eyes dark and playful at the same time as if to say, _ What are you going to do about it? _

Kiba leans forward for another kiss, though Kankuro teasingly moves his head back so he can’t reach him, content to watch Kiba try to move past the hold he has on him. 

Kiba opens his mouth to snarl something out but is cut off by Kankuro’s lips on his. “Just kidding,” Kankuro whispers against his lips, “but there’s a lot more where that came from.” He relaxes his hands, letting Kiba’s hands go.

It isn’t until Kankuro lets go of him that Kiba even realizes he was trying to lean forward still, and he lurches in a half step. “You’re a big fuckin’ tease,” he growls, his cheeks dusted with pink. 

Part of Kankuro wants to press him right back to the wall and ruin him. He barely even knows how ruining him would work. But the other part of him is still nervous, and wants to make this last. He doesn’t want to go too far right off the bat- he doesn’t necessarily wish for Kiba to be a one night stand. 

“Something tells me that I want that moment to be a little more special if it’s with you,” Kankuro answers, the most straightforward he’s been all evening. 

Kiba’s expression changes from one of annoyance to something fond, an incredulous laugh leaving his lips. “What, you think I’m special? Two days?”

“You’re somethin’.”

~

The night ends up being something almost entirely better than sex. The hotel had given Kankuro a king sized bed, and he finds that it’s much better when there’s someone on the other side of it (and someone on the foot of it too, when Akamaru decides he wants to join.)

The complimentary room service is also a perk Kankuro takes full advantage of. They still haven’t eaten since before training, and a decent meal is wholly important. Kankuro is especially intrigued by a number of things found exclusively in the Leaf that Kiba vouches for as “so fucking good it’ll make you cry.”

That’s how he finds himself sharing a carton of soba noodles with Kiba in  _ bed,  _ something that he thinks anyone else would’ve scolded him for. They’re propped up against pillows with Akamaru at their feet, who they give a bite of meat to every now and then. Kankuro feels an overwhelming sense of  _ home. _

Kankuro is a person who gets tired of other people easily- but God, he would pay money to listen to Kiba talk about anything and everything for hours on end. 

“...and so that’s how Shino got cheated out of his money. And I was like, come on, man, you have to make sure you get what you pay for,” Kiba rambles, pushing his own chopsticks past Kankuro’s to get to the carton of noodles first. He talks with his mouth full. “...I almost got cheated by this CD guy once--”

“You buy CD’s?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I got a player a while ago in the land of Tea,” Kiba hums, “so I collect them when the merchants pass through.”

“You got so much hotter just now. So much hotter,” Kankuro shakes his head. 

“Huh? I mean, great, but--”

“I have one too. And my siblings make fun of me for listening to it all the time,” Kankuro laughs. “It’s just cool that you get it.”

“Life is a lot better wif’ a soundtrack,” Kiba says through a mouth full of noodles. “Stop leaving all the vegetables for me. I don’t want them,” he complains, pushing them to the side of the container with his chopsticks. 

“I don’t want them either.”

Bored after picking over the contents of the soba, Kiba reaches for one of the two glasses of wine they’d placed on the nightstand. The bottle had been free, already resting on ice in the suite (Kiba had discovered it on accident earlier.) Kankuro assumed there was no better night to crack it open than tonight, even though he’s not too much a fan of wine. 

Kiba hands Kankuro’s glass to him as well, just out of kindness. Kankuro swirls the wine around in his glass. “This stuff always gives me headaches if I drink too much. Or it makes me cry.”

“I think wine makes everybody cry,” Kiba points out. 

They sit like this for hours that Kankuro doesn’t bother to pay attention to. He has nowhere to be besides here- a time lapse would simply show an assortment of different positions they lay in. For a while, Kiba had just tipped his head onto Kankuro’s shoulder. Eventually Kankuro’s legs would find their way between Kiba’s somehow, or they would both just lay back while they talked. 

Kankuro learns that Kiba also has an older sister, he’s not scared of bugs because Shino is his best friend, and he doesn’t have his wisdom teeth. Kiba finds out that the only reason Kankuro paints his nails is because he saw a metal band do it once, and it has no Sunan cultural relevance. He notes that Kankuro prefers brunettes over blondes, and that he has his left ear pierced, but doesn’t really wear an earring much.

Kankuro’s wine glass is empty, but he’s not drunk by any means unless that counts being entirely absorbed into every word Kiba says. Both of them, visibly tired, have settled right into each other. 

After a while, Kiba murmurs, “I should probably go soon,” into Kankuro’s neck. It’s getting late. Akamaru is fast asleep on the foot of the bed. 

“Okay,” Kankuro says, resting his chin atop Kiba’s head.

~ 

When Kiba kisses him goodbye that night, it’s soft and slow, both of them tangled up in each other near the door. Kiba leaves him with a sweet thank you and the promise of seeing him tomorrow. Neither of them says anything about this new arrangement they seem to have created between themselves- perhaps it is too early for any kind of discussion. Kankuro will just chalk it up to them seeing each other. Maybe it doesn’t have to be that complicated. 

There’s white fur on the edge of his bed, and Kankuro isn’t irritated in the least when he brushes it off, watches it fall to the floor. He returns to the same spot he’d been laying in, although this time the bed is empty like usual and he’s right back where he started: by himself. He falls into a pattern of thinking when he’s like this, of staring at the ceiling and recalling every second of his day. More than anything else, he wonders if the one thing that makes him happy will have to be a secret forever. Bitterly, he wonders why he can’t let himself enjoy it. 

Pleasant things like Kiba’s pillow next to him or the lingering feeling of his lips on Kankuro’s neck shouldn’t make him feel so much intense regret. He’s spent years trying to convince himself that he’s anything but  _ this,  _ and in a fleeting moment of selfishness, he feels like he’s unearthed a part of himself that he can’t possibly bury again. 

Now, Kankuro realizes that he reaches for the bottle when he doesn’t know what else to do. It feels better to be numb than anything else. He doesn’t even like wine, but he’s still leaning over to grab the bottle from the nightstand, pulling the cork and taking a swig straight from it. 

He makes a face. It’s a dry red that has no appeal to it at all, he thinks (not that he’s a wine geek of any sort.) Maybe he does have a problem, he thinks, as he foregoes the glass and takes another drink. Whenever he closes his eyes and cringes at the taste of the wine, he sees Kiba’s face. God, does he have a kind, sweet face. 

It’s all the more reason for Kankuro to feel stupid and unworthy. Does Kiba even want to deal with how iffy and inexperienced Kankuro is? Or how he’d rather melt into the floor than have anybody know he’s remotely attracted to men? How special does Kankuro think he is to assume Kiba wants any part of that?

The bottom of the wine bottle bubbles each time that he tips it back. He doesn’t particularly care for the sensation of being wine-drunk, either, it’s awfully heavy. He’ll have a headache in the morning. 

The more he drinks, the more his fingers itch for a cigarette. He doesn’t usually smoke- maybe once in a while if he’s drunk and someone has a pack- but nonetheless, he wants one. However, he’d presumably be fined for smoking in such an expensive hotel room and he doesn’t have any on him anyway. To go out in the street like this and buy some would certainly earn him reprimanding from Gaara or Temari. 

So he stays in bed. This is how he wants to fall asleep, out of his mind so that he won’t be busy thinking about who he’s turning into, or offhandedly, who he’s always been. 

The wine level in the bottle falls as the minutes pass. After a while, Kankuro gets bored of it, clumsily setting it back on the nightstand. Gradually, his eyes fall closed. He snaps them open every now and then whenever he hears something, like someone new wheeling luggage through the hall or the clatter of a maid’s cleaning cart. 

The next time his eyes open it’s because someone is knocking on the door. “Kankuro,” the voice is muffled but familiar, “it’s me. I have some stuff for you to sign off on.”

Of all the visitors Kankuro could have had while he’s miserably drunk by himself, Temari is at the bottom of his list. He practically shoots up out of bed, but when he gets up, he stumbles and bumps into the nightstand, nearly knocking over the almost empty bottle of wine. The lampshade clatters, but nothing breaks (yet.)

“Kankuro? C’mon, I’m busy. Just real quick.”

“Coming,” Kankuro answers, rubbing his hands over his face, through his hair, anything and everything to wake himself up. Just a few minutes. He can do this. She won’t be able to tell if he acts natural. 

Kankuro is unaware that he reeks of wine when he opens the door. He’s also unaware that his eyes are practically hooded, he’s leaning on the doorframe for support, and he’s staring at the center of Temari’s forehead instead of looking into her eyes when he talks to her. 

Temari has a folder of papers with her. Her knuckles are white around them. “Is anybody here with you?” She asks, looking past him, expecting to see an average looking girl in Kankuro’s bed. His room is empty. 

“What’re you talking about? Gimme those,” Kankuro mumbles, reaching out for the folder. 

Temari purposely moves them out of his reach. “I’m not letting you sign  _ official village documents  _ when you’re piss drunk. God, Kankuro, are you serious right now? Are you serious?” 

Kankuro feels like he can’t understand any words she’s saying, just her tone. And she’s clearly not very happy with him. He blinks at her stupidly, and reaches for the folder again. 

“I just told you,” Temari snaps, and she pushes past him to walk inside. Sure enough, when she scans the room she sees the bottle of wine that’s all but finished. To her knowledge, Kankuro doesn’t even  _ like _ wine. He complains about it every time it’s served at important dinners. And while she’s so angry that she can’t see straight, she’s also incredibly sad. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She turns to look at him still leaning against the wall by the doorway, because he can’t stand up straight by himself. He still won’t properly speak to her, and she wants answers. 

Kankuro’s steps are uncoordinated as he walks towards her. Before Temari can say anything else, she’s buried in a hug, her face pressed to Kankuro’s shoulder, his weight slumped over on her. He’s bigger and taller than her; heavy, and she doesn’t know what to do because  _ Kankuro doesn’t do this.  _

Temari is quiet, a pull in her chest as she wraps her arms around her brother. He’s her little brother right now, even if he’s always acting like he’s bigger than he is. 

Kankuro’s shoulders are tense where her hands are, as she rubs her hand up and down in a soothing motion, the same way she would comfort a child. The last time she had seen Kankuro remotely like this was when they had found out their father was dead. Even with that, Temari isn’t sure she’s ever seen Kankuro so devastatingly  _ sad. _

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice the total opposite of what it had been a few minutes earlier, “hey. It’s okay.”

She can feel Kankuro’s chest shuddering when he breathes. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. His voice is thick with tears, slow with alcohol. Temari doesn’t remember the last time she saw her brother cry. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. Kankuro, what are you sorry for?” She keeps rubbing his back. 

“Temari, I’m so drunk, and I--” his face is pressed to her shoulder, arms wrapped so tight around her that it’s starting to get uncomfortable to hold his weight, but she doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are shaking with sobs, breaths stuttered and uncharacteristic as he just stands there feeling like the most obnoxious idiot in the world, and why does  _ being himself hurt so bad? _

“That’s okay. It’s okay,” Temari whispers, “Kankuro, I’m not mad at you. You can talk to me.”

“Y’can’t tell anyone,” Kankuro hiccups, eyes squeezed shut.

Temari’s heart twists in her chest while it pounds with anxiety. “I won’t.”

“I’m- I’m--” Kankuro’s fingers tighten in the fabric of of her dress. His face is sticky with tears, and he can’t tell if that’s why his vision is blurry or not. 

“You can tell me anything, you know th--”

“Temari, I’m gay,” whispers Kankuro, and he thinks he might pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart HURTS
> 
> come say hello at shadowstrangle on tumblr :)


	7. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter but honestly I haven't been keeping up with word limits or anything because I can do what I want  
> wholesome sand siblings interaction for you all because I know I crave this and I'm trying to feed y'all  
> the beginning will make you cry, but the end will make you laugh :)

TRACK 5 - THE VILLAGE - WRABEL 

Temari’s body sags with something like relief. Certainly, that hadn’t been what she expected Kankuro to say, but her mind had been racing with things that were much, much worse. 

She can feel Kankuro’s heart pounding out of his chest, can even hear the quiet  _ tickticktick  _ of it. “Kankuro,” she breathes. She wants to pull out of the hug and look at him, moves to do so, but he won’t let her. 

He doesn’t really want her to look at him right now. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” he continues, almost frantic. “I’m so--”

“ _ Kankuro,”  _ Temari says again, is reaching up to cradle the back of his head where it’s hidden in her shoulder. Kankuro was a lot easier to hold when he was ten and not over six feet tall. “I love you.  _ No matter what. _ ”

Those three words only come out of Temari’s mouth on birthdays, holidays, and maybe if she’s had something to drink. Perhaps that’s why Kankuro cries even harder, because she wouldn’t lie to him, not with something like that. 

Is she blindsided? Absolutely. But as long as she’s known her brother, he’s the best secret-keeper she’s ever met. “It’s okay,” she says again, is trying to blink back tears of her own. 

“It’s not,” Kankuro hiccups, and her heart breaks all over again. “An’ I don’t wanna be, but I can’t-- I can’t--”

“It  _ is, _ ” Temari says, her hand gentle on the back of his neck. He’s sweating, presumably a mix of alcohol and anxiety. “You don’t have to be anything but yourself. And I love who you are. I love you so,  _ so much. _ ”

He’s relaxed against her a bit, perhaps out of sheer exhaustion from the panic he’s been in for the past few minutes. 

Temari takes this opportunity to pull back, cupping Kankuro’s face in her hands. His cheeks are all red, eyes bloodshot, his face streaked with tears. When he looks at her, more spill out. “Do you hear me?” She asks, “No matter what.”

Kankuro just nods, sniffling with a shudder, keeps nodding and crying and nodding and crying because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Temari’s thumbs are under his eyes, swiping away the tears that keep falling, smoothing his hair out of his eyes every so often. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he finally says. His voice is slow, anywhere but sober, but he’s glad she’s here. 

“Okay,” Temari smiles a little bit. She lets her hands slip down from his face, patting his chest. “Let’s go wash your face, alright? You’ll be puffy tomorrow. Come on.”

Kankuro is so drunk that Temari has to put his arm over her shoulder while she takes him to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and setting it to cold. 

Kankuro has a chance to look at himself in the mirror as he leans over the counter, and he’s not so proud, but Temari’s voice nagging him to wash his face distracts him. She’s right- he does feel better after splashing some cold water over it. 

“I love you,” Kankuro slurs, while Temari is helping him back to the bedroom, finally lets go of him when they get to the bed. 

“I love you too.”

She takes it upon herself to take the bottle of wine and dump the rest down the bathroom sink. By this point, Kankuro has slumped facedown on the bed, and won’t remember where it went by the morning. 

“Turn on your side in case you throw up,” Temari calls, watching him from the corner of her eye. Kankuro obliges with a grunt. 

With the bottle of wine in the trash, Temari comes back, sitting on the edge of the bed. Oh, her baby brother looks a mess. “Does Gaara know?” She asks gently, looking over at him. 

“No,” answers Kankuro, “I don’t want him to… be disappointed,” he mumbles.

“He would never be disappointed in you,” she admonishes. 

“He said he… looks up t’me,” Kankuro says, “I don’t want him lookin’ up to me if I’m like this.”

“I don’t think anything could keep Gaara from admiring you. You know that?” Temari hums. “He loves you just as much as I do. And he’d want you to be happy.”

“Don’t tell him,” Kankuro says testily. “S’different with men, Temari.”

“It’s really not,” Temari says. “You are the same man you were to me twenty minutes ago, do you understand?”

Kankuro is quiet. 

“You deserve love, Kankuro. You deserve to be happy. I don’t want to see you like this,” Temari says quietly, “this is dangerous, you know? When you drink like this?”

“M’trying,” Kankuro says. 

“I know you are.”

Silence hangs between them again. It’s mostly because Kankuro looks like he’s starting to fall asleep. 

“...Is there somebody special?” Temari asks, rather hesitantly. She vaguely wonders if he’ll even tell her at all. 

“Yeah,” is all Kankuro says, but he doesn’t look at her. 

That’s enough to make her smile. “Is he handsome?” She looks down at him playfully, her voice soft. 

Kankuro’s wine-stained lips twitch in a slight smile. “Yeah.”

Temari doesn’t pry further. It’s obvious if Kankuro wanted to tell her, he would, but this is enough for her. “I’m happy for you, then,” she says, brushing the hair off his forehead again. 

“Thanks’fr coming over,” Kankuro says. He’s nodding off already, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

“Of course.” She’s about an hour late for her date with Shikamaru, but she’ll make something up. “You gonna be okay?”

Kankuro nods, his eyes closing. 

“Okay,” she says, rising from the bed. She places the blanket over him, reaching over to turn out the light. “Good night. Drink some water in the morning. Remember we have a meeting.” She knows she’ll have to come pick him up. 

“I ‘member,” mumbles Kankuro. “Be safe walkin’ home…”

“I can take care of myself, don’t worry,” she laughs softly. “I love you,” she says again, as she heads for the door. 

“Love you.”

When she arrives at Shikamaru’s house, Temari is the one that needs a hug.

~

Kankuro wakes up with a headache so blinding he has to close the shades. He doesn’t feel nauseous, just sluggish, and it takes him a few minutes to recall the events of last night. His stomach lurches with anxiety when he realizes what he’s done, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel better knowing that he told somebody (and they didn’t hate him.)

It’s early. He doesn’t remember what time he went to bed, and he doesn’t remember how he made it under the covers. He assumes it was Temari, and makes a mental note to thank her when he sees her. 

He hates feeling like this in the morning. Every time he tells himself he won’t drink himself to sleep, and every time he breaks his own promise. It’s getting embarrassing (and awfully disheartening.)

Temari is knocking at his door within the hour, presumably to make sure he got out of bed and is still alive. Indefinitely, he’s grateful for her. 

However, when he opens the door, he has no idea what to say. Temari breezes past him just like she normally would, setting her fan on his bed. “You got up okay?” She asks. 

“Mhmmm,” answers Kankuro simply, heading back to the bathroom to finish his

Half painted face. 

“Good.”

Kankuro decides to just focus on his face paint. Anything else and he’ll presumably be incredibly anxious, but Temari throws all of those thoughts out the window when she comes into view of the bathroom mirror. 

“I’m proud of you,” is all she says, a tentative smile on his face. 

Kankuro looks taken aback as he turns to meet her eyes. “For what?”

“Being honest with yourself. Talking to me. Getting up this morning.”

Kankuro is quiet. He looks back at the mirror. “Day by day, huh?” It’s something Baki would say when he trained them- often a premonition to getting better. 

“Day by day,” Temari returns with a warm smile. She pushes herself up to sit on the bathroom counter. Annoyance flickers across Kankuro’s face just because she’s in his way- she would often barge in on him getting ready when they were younger- but she’s been so kind to him he doesn’t have the heart to say anything. 

“I didn’t say anything to Gaara,” Temari says, her legs swinging above the floor.

“Good,” Kankuro says, fanning a hand over his face so the paint will dry. 

“You said you were seeing someone,” she says tentatively. 

“Temari, I just woke up,” Kankuro groans. “Can we not, please?” 

“Okay, okay,” Temari nods. Perhaps that was too much and too soon.

“And it’s not really… official, or anything, so don’t get anything in your head,” Kankuro mutters as he puts his hood on. 

“Okay! I won’t,” Temari puts her hands up in surrender. A smile creeps onto her face. “Is he tall?”

“Temari!”

Temari laughs. “I’m done, I promise. Don’t freak out.”

Kankuro huffs with his last look in the mirror, making sure he’s ready to go. “And for your information,” he calls out, going out to the main room to get his scrolls, “he’s kind of short.”

~

The Chunin exams are in two days, so the meetings have grown longer and more urgent. This morning, Kankuro has no interest in listening in on any of them. He’s generally allowed in the room where it happens, but chooses to stand outside of it most of the time. After all, he’s technically just Gaara’s bodyguard. 

When the respective council members take a break for the afternoon, Gaara is the last one to file out. He looks sleepy. 

“Let’s go into town,” he says from behind Kankuro, who jumps as per usual. “We have an hour.”

“You’re like a little fucking raccoon. Stop sneaking up on me like that, I told you,” Kankuro huffs, shoving Gaara’s shoulder. “And what do you want to go into town for, anyway?”

“I’m craving something salty.”

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Kankuro sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like to come or not? I’ll go by myself.”

“No, you don’t even know where anything is,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. 

“I could ask.”

“Every time you open your mouth, you make me want to shut it. Do you know that?” Kankuro asks, as he shoulders his scrolls and starts for the door. 

“So you  _ do  _ want to come into town with me?” Gaara asks, following. 

Kankuro doesn’t answer, just leads the way out of the Hokage’s tower. He’s too hung over to deal with Gaara today. 

“Why are you making that face?” Gaara asks as they walk. 

“What face?”

“You’re making a sour face,” Gaara notes. 

“Probably because you’re asking me so many questions,” Kankuro responds. He’s only sour because he’s anxious. Now that he’s told Temari, he feels like he should tell Gaara. It’s only natural. But Gaara is different. Kankuro looks up to Gaara in a different way- feels the need to be strong around him. He admires the way Gaara can be so fucking cool, a trait that Kankuro doesn’t think he has no matter how hard he tries. 

“Should I stop asking you questions? Oh, dear. That was a question,” Gaara is now talking to both Kankuro and himself. He only gets odder as the years go by, Kankuro thinks. 

Kankuro shakes his head. This can’t be the same guy that would threaten to kill him years and years ago. 

“When are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” Gaara pipes up, after they’ve walked well into town. 

Kankuro almost jumps out of his skin. “What?”

“Your chakra is acting strange,” says Gaara. “You seem nervous.”

“You’re creepy. Mind your own business,” says Kankuro. 

“Ah. See? There it was again,” Gaara notes. 

Kankuro bites his tongue. He reminds himself that bullying Gaara to his heart’s content is not the correct activity for today. Plus, Gaara is stressed. If Kankuro pushes him too far he’ll probably sulk for the entire evening. 

“I do have to tell you something,” he admits, “but I don’t really want to.”

“Oh?” Momentarily, Gaara’s attention is pulled by a flower cart. “Is it a matter of your personal life? Or is it political?”

Kankuro pauses. “Kind of both.”

“We’re not playing _Simon Says_ , Kankuro, you could just tell me.” Kankuro should’ve known this exchange would annoy Gaara after a while. For someone that is always late and makes everyone wait, Gaara is not very patient. 

“Shut up. You’re being insensitive,” Kankuro retorts. 

They’ve now paused in the middle of the street to bicker. It seems they can’t go anywhere without Temari.

“And you’re being annoying,” says Gaara. 

“I’m not being annoying! You’re being annoying!”

“Why am I the one that’s being annoying? You’re the one that’s making a big deal out of this.”

“I’m not making a big deal, you’re making a big deal!”

“No, you are!”

“You are!”

“You are--”

Before they can continue any further, Kankuro squeezes his eyes shut and blurts out, “I’m gay.”

Gaara blinks. 

Upon feeling silence, Kankuro opens his eyes. He can never tell what Gaara’s thinking, and now they’re both just standing here like a couple of idiots in the middle of the street (business as usual.)

“Are you seeing anyone?” Gaara asks, completely unfazed. 

“What?” Kankuro is bewildered. “Did you just hear what I said? I said I’m--”

“I know you’re gay. I was asking if you were seeing somebody. Did you hear what  _ I _ said?”

The one thing about Gaara is that he can talk about something incredibly taxing as if it’s the weather. He would often do this as a child, especially with gory details  _ (“I ripped his legs off, _ ” or “ _ You should’ve seen how much blood there was.” _ ) But now, he’s taking something that Kankuro had used all his life force to spit out, and acting like Kankuro’s just asked him for the time. In a way, Kankuro is awfully thankful. 

“What do you mean you know?” Kankuro splutters. 

“I mean that I know. Well, I didn’t know. I found some suggestive material under your mattress a very long time ago. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, so I didn’t say anything. I assumed the answer would provide itself to me in time.”

“You  _ what?! _ ” Kankuro’s cheeks burn red, and he yanks Gaara over to the side of the path because they’re starting to be in the way and he doesn’t need anybody listening in. “Why were you in my shit to begin with?”

“If I don’t wash your sheets, who will?”

Kankuro doesn't even have the capacity to repel Gaara's dig at his lifestyle. “I--” Kankuro’s little brother has seen his porn. Kankuro’s little brother has seen his porn- _his gay porn_ \- and he thinks this is worse than coming out. 

“I’m not surprised. You never have been very good at reading books with words,” Gaara says snidely, the corners of his mouth turning up so Kankuro will know it’s a joke. 

Of course his experience telling Gaara would be this fucking weird. Of course it would. “You are so--” Kankuro shakes his head. 

“However,” Gaara cuts him off, and places a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t care who’s in your bed. I still respect you more than any other man.”

With that, Gaara leads the way back into the street, Kage robes flowing behind him. They never really talk much, do they? Kankuro has always heard that men don't really need to- much less brothers. Gaara is a lot of things, but never a liar. With one sentence, he's managed to squash any possible insecurity Kankuro could have had. 

Blinking back tears, Kankuro wonders,  _ when did his little brother get so big? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **the Wrabel song at the beginning is actually incredible & I recommend that if you listen to any songs in this fic, you definitely choose that one! It really captures the queer experience, as someone who's queer myself it's super special to me :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!!! Y'all make me happy. As always, you're welcome to my tumblr @shadowstrangle :)


	8. Stealth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is literal fucking crack sksksks however I think you will enjoy the sand sibs here  
> i really hope yall like it  
> also I am baked as I finish this so the beta read was bad. sorry for any mistakes  
> ALSO smut warning!

“So you told them both?” Kiba asks, his fingers mindlessly carding through Kankuro’s hair. Kankuro’s head is in his lap, and they’re watching whatever low quality TV is on. They’re laid up in Kankuro’s hotel room again, a frequent hideout for the two of them. Surely Kiba could bring Kankuro home, but he doesn’t need an introductory dinner with his family quite yet. 

“Yeah. I don’t really know what I was worried about.”

“I don’t know why you were worried either. Is your family, like… weird about that?” Kiba asks tentatively, and his hand stalls in Kankuro’s hair with the hesitation of his phrase. 

Kankuro almost doesn’t know how to answer that. “I think if my dad were alive he’d kick my ass,” he confesses. “But it’s also… this is illegal in Suna.”

“Seriously?” Kiba asks. Perhaps in a way, he realizes his privilege in this moment. “I don’t think it ever has been here. There was lore that Hashirama and Madara even hit it off a couple times,” he laughs, although maybe this isn’t the moment for a joke. 

“Must be nice.”

“I mean, no one knows if it’s really true, ‘cause they’re fuckin’ dead. But I guess it kind of set the standard,” Kiba says thoughtfully. 

“So it’s not a secret for you?” Kankuro asks.

“I mean, it’s not everyone’s business,” Kiba answers, “but my friends know. My family knows. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Neither do they.”

Kankuro aches with jealousy. “You sure you even wanna do this, then?”

Kiba rolls his eyes, “Shut up.” His hand resumes in Kankuro’s hair. 

Kankuro closes his eyes. From Kiba, that means yes.

~

In the next few days, Kankuro admittedly feels a lot lighter. It could be the obvious- he’s lifted a weight that’s the equivalent of seven million pounds off of his chest- but it could also be that whenever he’s not working, he’s with Kiba. However, the only two people that know Kankuro and Kiba are together are, well… Kankuro and Kiba. And this calls for investigation.

Ordinarily, Temari and Gaara don’t team up. In fact, both of them are too bossy for each other’s own good and typically need Kankuro to mediate. But when Kankuro practically disappears at every turn, it calls for investigation. 

It had been their very first conversation about Kankuro that spurred this afternoon’s shenanigans. It was brief ( _ Did Kankuro talk to you the other day? - Yes. - How did it go? - Fine. _ ) After that, both of them had asked each other the same question: 

_ Do you know who he’s dating?  _

It’s safe to say that both of them are pretending not to be incredibly offended that Kankuro hasn’t shared his entire love life with them (even though he might be the most private between the three of them- even more so than Gaara.) So when Kankuro turns the opposite way to walk home after this morning’s meeting, Temari doesn’t miss the way Gaara is forming hand signs. 

“Gaara!” She hisses, because she can never predict what stupid thing her chaotic little brother will do in the middle of the street. 

Gaara simply puts a finger to his lips, shaking his head. A smile hides behind his hand. There’s no dramatic jutsu, no flash of sand. In fact, it’s Gaara’s third eye, and with a subtle flick of his hand, he sends it down the street. 

Now Temari is catching on. 

“He’s gonna catch you, and he’s going to be super mad--”

“So cover for me,” Gaara says simply. “Mm. I think he’s just going back to the hotel.”

“Alone?”

“Oh, now he’s talking to someone-- we have to get closer,” says Gaara, eyebrows slightly furrowed, one eye closed as he focuses on the jutsu, “I don’t think my chakra can reach that far.”

Now this has become a mission.

~

“...it was the longest fuckin’ meeting ever,” sighs Kankuro, as he closes the hotel room door behind him and Kiba. “I hate sitting through those. Usually I just stand outside, y’know? But they want me to proctor an exam, so I had to listen in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kiba grins, “Which one?”

“The scrolls one. They’re using my poison for half of the forest, they want me there in case they need help with it,” Kankuro shrugs. 

“Freaky,” Kiba comments. Then, he looks at Kankuro with a laugh. “You know, one of these days we could actually go and do something instead of laying in bed all day. I think that might make your day less boring, too.”

It kind of works out like that. Kankuro’s always tired from work, Kiba comes back from training or a local mission, and they end up resting together in the afternoon. The foot of Kankuro’s bed seems to be permanently dubbed as Akamaru’s spot. 

“We absolutely could,” responds Kankuro, tilting Kiba’s chin up with his hand, “but then I wouldn’t have you all to myself.”

Kankuro doesn’t ever think the sight of Kiba’s cheeks turning red under his tattoos will get old. “What’s got you acting so sweet all of a sudden?” He smiles.

“Just had a long day. I’m excited to see you. Sue me,” Kankuro shrugs, bringing his hand to the side of Kiba’s face rather fondly. “We can do something fun this weekend. Everything’ll be open because of the exams.” He doesn’t want Kiba to think that his own personal issues make a difference in whether he wants to spend time together or not. 

Kiba’s eyes are crinkled at the edges with a smile as he looks back up at Kankuro. “Like a date?” He asks. There’s a hint of a tease to his voice, but he’s serious (though if Kankuro asks, he’s joking.)

Kiba honestly isn’t expecting Kankuro to peck him on the lips and say, “You’re cute. Absolutely.”

~

“Are you positive someone’s with him?” Temari is jogging to catch up with Gaara now, as they’ve started down the street toward the direction of the hotel. 

“No, Temari. I only have the best sensory abilities in the entire desert and I believe I’m mistaken.”

Swiftly, Temari’s hand meets the back of Gaara’s head to give him a good smack. “I was asking you a question.”

“And I was answering it,” responds Gaara irritably. “This requires a lot of chakra, you know, you’re interrupting my focus.” Gaara’s third eye is further down the street now. “We might just have to go straight there.”

“That’s totally spying,” Temari shakes her head. “He would kill us.”

“I haven’t sparred with Kankuro in a while. It will be nice.”

“You’re missing the point!” 

“I didn’t know there was a point. I assumed we were doing this because we were nosy and bored.”

“Can you just stop talking and figure out where he went?!”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!”

“Shut up!”

“I’m the Kazekage! You shut up!”

~

The comforter on Kankuro’s bed has fallen to the floor in a heap. Begrudgingly, Akamaru has also retreated to the floor because now Kiba and Kankuro have taken up much of the mattress. 

Kiba is on top of Kankuro, straddling his hips, hands cupping the sides of Kankuro’s face while he kisses him. Purple paint stains his thumbs and he’ll presumably have to wash his face later, too, but neither of them are paying that any mind. Besides, Kiba doesn’t have to worry about face paint if he starts kissing Kankuro’s neck. 

Naturally, Kankuro’s head tips back, a soft exhale leaving his lips when he feels sharp teeth lightly digging into his skin, barely leaving a mark before they trail further down. 

“Take this stupid thing off,” murmurs Kiba, his hands pushing up at Kankuro’s shirt. It joins the comforter on the floor. 

Momentarily, Kiba pauses on top of him just to get a good look. Their body types are completely different. Kankuro is bigger than him, tall and broad, and his muscles make him look bulkier, compared to Kiba, who is lean and wiry himself. 

Kankuro won’t really tell anyone, but sometimes he offhandedly checks to see if his abs are still there. He’s worried he’ll put on beer weight. However, watching the way Kiba looks at him, he wonders if beer weight would ever even matter. He’s used to being wildly insecure whenever he’s in a compromising position like this. With Kiba, he feels overwhelming confidence- a sense of safety. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says to Kiba, pulls his arms up to rest his hands behind his head, looking up at him with a grin. 

“Shut up,” Kiba rolls his eyes, “stick to looking good, huh? I’ll do the talking.”

“I’d like to do a little more than talking, anyway,” says Kankuro, and playfully tugs on Kiba’s shirt. “What’s this still doing on?”

Kiba’s shirt falls to the floor next. He feels hands on his hips, Kankuro’s hands smoothing up his sides and right back down again, over his chest, his stomach. They move back to his shoulders then, because Kankuro is pulling him back down. 

Kiba’s skin burns hot, pressed against Kankuro’s where their middles touch. One of his hands trails over Kankuro’s chest, feeling smooth skin and the ripple of muscle as he moves further down. His lips follow. He fondly looks over a fading purple mark on Kankuro’s collarbone that he’d made a few days prior, and decides that perhaps he could use another one. 

Kankuro’s breath hitches in his throat when teeth sink into his collarbone, only for a second, before lips are back on it. When he looks back down at Kiba, there’s a streak of purple on the side of his face, and lots more around his lips. He’s already a mess and they’ve barely done anything. 

Kankuro’s eyes grow more curious as Kiba starts to trail kisses well past his chest- they usually would’ve stopped by now- and stops right above the waistband of Kankuro’s pants. 

Experimentally, Kiba leans down to take the waistband between his teeth, sharp canines hanging over the black fabric, eyes trained on Kankuro’s. His words are simple, although muffled by the fabric in his teeth. “Ye’th or no?” He asks. 

“ _ Fuck _ yes.”

Kiba grins in response, a satisfied hum following as he pulls down the waistband with his teeth, leaving no room to hide the bulge that their little rendezvous had left Kankuro with. 

Kankuro has had a lot of half-assed awkward sexual experiences, a lot that ended with excuses or embarrassment or both. This time around, he doesn’t feel stupid or insecure. He’s  _ excited,  _ his eyes haven’t left Kiba since they got started. For once, he can just sit back and let himself enjoy something. That’s what this is all about, isn’ t it? It only took him twenty-something years to realize.

Kiba’s hand unceremoniously reaching into his boxers pulls Kankuro right out of his thoughts. “You didn’t tell me you were  _ packing, _ ” he quips, and Kankuro didn’t think he’d ever be comfortable enough to laugh during sex, but here they are. “And you have a _ tattoo?”  _ There is a well-faded black scorpion on Kankuro’s right thigh. Surely Kankuro is the coolest, most attractive man he’s ever met, Kiba thinks.

“Whatever happened to not talking?” He laughs, and Kiba tilts his head, a languid smirk on his face. 

Slowly, he moves his hand around Kankuro’s length, watching the way his chest tightens and body tenses. “What? You want me to do something else with my mouth?”

Kankuro’s hand finds a place in Kiba’s hair and he tightens his grip on it, tilting Kiba’s head back with it. Kiba’s eyes flutter, mouth hanging open just so.

It’s another mental note for Kankuro- it’s almost like a game for him, figuring out what’ll make Kiba  _ shut up.  _

Kiba’s eyes are darker when they meet Kankuro’s, hooded, while a blush dusts across his nose and cheeks. He sticks his tongue out just to be sinful for a moment, then finally drags it up the underside of Kankuro’s cock, wrapping his lips around it when he gets to the top. 

A soft groan leaves Kankuro, his mouth tipping open while Kiba starts to bob his head, his hand pumping at the base as well.  _ “Fuck,  _ Kiba,” breathes Kankuro. 

Not only does he have the golden sight of Kiba’s mouth on him, he gets to watch the muscles of his back move, Kiba’s sharp collarbones, his red cheeks. Kiba champions any guy in any magazine that Kankuro’s ever bought. 

Kankuro’s length is thicker than Kiba would have thought, heavy against his tongue, filling his mouth. He moves a hand up Kankuro’s thigh, fingers tracing over raised lines of tattoo ink and finding a resting place in the divet of his hip. 

Kankuro’s eyes have fallen closed, one hand gripping at Kiba’s hair while the other is fisted in the sheets next to him. He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last, honestly, but he won’t worry about anything but enjoying this. 

Then, he feels himself hit the back of Kiba’s throat. “ _ Shit,”  _ Kankuro groans. 

All at once, Kiba moans at the sudden pull to his hair, while Kankuro tries his very best not to hold Kiba’s head down, as much as he wants to. He’ll let Kiba take the lead for now, watching his dark eyes water. When Kiba pulls up, his lips are shiny and a string of spit is hanging off of his tongue. “You were gonna push my head down. I felt it.” His voice is raspy. 

“Sorry, I won’t do it again, I didn’t mean--”

“No, definitely do it again,” Kiba says, wraps a hand around Kankuro to pump him gently while he moves up to face him. He wants to look at Kankuro for this.

Up close, Kiba’s eyes are watery, his hair sticking up in every which direction. He leans in for what Kankuro presumes to be a kiss, but instead he just bites at Kankuro’s bottom lip and breathes into his mouth, “Make me choke on it.”

Kiba has this effortless way of talking that gets him whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and Kankuro is no stranger to it. But God, does he have the filthiest mouth Kankuro’s ever heard. 

“Get down there, then,” says Kankuro, eyes heavy with lust. 

Kiba takes his time, decides to leave another hickey just under Kankuro’s hipbone, and then puts his mouth on him again. He keeps Kankuro guessing, teasing lightly with his tongue and pulling off every so often. If Kankuro were more analytical, he’d know that Kiba was doing it on purpose.

The only thing Kankuro knows at this moment is that Kiba’s being a brat and a tease, and then he takes the lead Kiba was waiting for. Kankuro’s hand is steady on the back of Kiba’s head. He eases him down rather quickly, doesn’t give him time to think, and instead of leaving room for Kiba to pull off after he’s bottomed out, Kankuro keeps him down. 

The result is getting to watch Kiba’s eyes water while he chokes around Kankuro and tries to breathe through his nose. “God, look at you,” Kankuro grunts, and he yanks Kiba up again by his hair. Kiba’s breathing is ragged as a smile spreads across his lips, as if he’s about to say something. 

“I don’t remember asking you to talk--” Kankuro is cut off by Kiba’s mouth on him again, taking him deeper with each movement of his head. Every so often, Kankuro will hold him down, watch as he coughs and splutters around him. Kiba’s cheeks are wet with tears by now, lips red where they’re stretched around Kankuro, and his eyes roll back a little when he can feel Kankuro come in the back of his throat with a loud “ _ oh, fuck!”  _

Kankuro feels Kiba swallowing around him and he finally pulls off, licking his lips afterwards as he sits up. He’s a mess. There’s streaks of face paint on him, his cheeks are wet, and there’s still some cum on the corner of his mouth. 

“You are  _ so  _ fucking hot,” Kankuro breathes, pushes himself to sit up as well so he can kiss Kiba, tongue and all. Kiba’s lips are slick with spit and cum and Kankuro can taste every bit of himself. 

When he pulls away, Kankuro leans back against the pillows, still sitting up and reaching out for Kiba. “Turn around,” he says, “and come here.” 

Kiba fits perfectly between Kankuro’s legs, his back pressed to Kankuro’s chest. Lazily, his head tips back onto Kankuro’s shoulder. “What?”

“You just sit back,” Kankuro murmurs into his ear, one hand winding around him to rest on his chest, the other coming in front to reach into his boxers, “and let me take care of you.”

Funnily enough, this might be the one thing that Kankuro knows how to do because of his abundant experience with  _ himself. There’s a joke here somewhere _ , he thinks, as he starts stroking Kiba, but the second Kiba relaxes back into him with a loud exhale he stops thinking about anything else. 

Kiba’s length fits comfortably in his hand, admittedly average but proportional to him. Kankuro kisses at the side of his neck while his hand continues to work. “You look so fucking good like this, you know that? S’like you’re all mine.”

Kiba’s eyes are fixed on Kankuro’s hand over his chest, smoothing over his skin. He moans when Kankuro’s hand speeds up, his body tensing. 

“You sound even better,” Kankuro whispers in his ear, and he teases his hand from Kiba’s chest to his neck, listening to how Kiba’s breath hitches. 

“Hmm,” Kiba can feel Kankuro’s voice thrumming against his back, his own breaths growing more shallow as pleasure builds inside of him, “is this what you wanted?”

Before Kiba has a chance to ask what he means, Kankuro’s hand closes over his throat. No sound comes out of Kiba, naturally, but his mouth drops open, his eyes rolling back. 

When Kankuro lets go and the red leaves Kiba’s face, he’s breathless, squirming against Kankuro with a whimper of “ _ please”  _ and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore. Somehow Kankuro answers exactly correct as his hand quickens, and he grabs Kiba’s throat again. 

Kiba’s orgasm hits him right as he’s writhing against Kankuro’s chest, gasping for breath and spilling into Kankuro’s hand at the same time.

Kankuro strokes him through his orgasm, letting go of his throat to let him catch his breath again. “You’re fucking filthy, you know that?” He asks, voice low as he looks over at Kiba. 

Kiba’s eyes are closed, that same lopsided grin on his face as he comes down. He only opens them to reach for Kankuro’s hand in order to bring it to his mouth and lick the cum off of his fingers- and Kankuro didn’t think he could get any more insatiable. 

“Tell me you’ll stay the night,” he asks, as Kiba turns his head for another kiss, this one just as salty as the rest. 

“You want me to?” Kiba seems unnecessarily flattered.

“Mhmmm,” is Kankuro’s response. He winds both arms around Kiba then, resting his head on Kiba’s shoulder. “Absolutely.” That’s the answer to everything in Kankuro’s book if it involves Kiba. 

~

Somehow, Temari and Gaara have ended up in the lobby of the hotel. Per Temari’s insistence, they’re going to  _ go upstairs and just figure it out.  _ By now, Gaara’s third eye is not proving very useful anymore as the distances have gotten larger, so they’re both very literally just spying now. Both of them are technically supposed to be staying here- they have rooms booked- but have very obviously been spending time with their respective lovers. 

“I know where his room is, don’t call attention to yourself,” Temari says as they walk into an elevator. 

“I wasn’t calling attention to myself. I move quieter than you do.”

“Are you saying I’m big and loud?”

“You’re big, loud,  _ and obnoxious, _ ” Gaara shoots back. 

Temari doesn’t have time to punch him in the face because the elevator opens, and instead, she tugs him out by his ear. 

All while Gaara is swatting at her, they’re completely silent, under the impression that they can’t be caught. If anyone were to see them, all they would see is Temari dragging the Kazekage through a very expensive hallway. 

“There’s  _ two people in there, _ ” Gaara hisses. He doesn’t know which room is Kankuro’s- Temari does- but he can at least sense the chakra inside of it. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Kankuro and two other signatures. I don’t know who.”

“Is he having a threesome?!” 

“Why would we stick around to find out?!” 

This argument is whisper-hissed in a corner.

“What if he’s polyamorous?” asks Temari. 

“He could be.”

“More than one boyfriend?”

“Our Kankuro is awfully desirable.”

Temari claps a hand over Gaara’s mouth when she hears a door open, however it’s another guest, and they don’t even walk in their direction. 

“What if he just has friends over?” Gaara asks. Then he adds, “Temari, are you sure we aren’t being weird?” He’s certain that right now, Kankuro would be calling him weird. Honestly? Sometimes he relies on that. 

“No, we’re not,” Temari smacks the side of his arm. “We have every right to know!”

“Do we?”

“Yes!” 

“Okay.”

“Let’s just go see him,” Temari decides, crossing her arms. “If it’s just friends he’ll introduce us, right?”

“What if he’s--” Gaara struggles to find the right word, “preoccupied?”

“Then he wouldn’t answer the door, right?”

“I’m not interrupting,” Gaara declares. 

“There’s two signatures, right? There’s no way he’s… you know. Two people at once.”

“Kankuro has been very unexpected this week.”

Temari can’t argue with that. Technically, she knows she shouldn’t be poking around in her brother’s personal life, but curiosity is getting the better of her, and she can’t help it.

“You know what? This is what he gets for being weird and constantly disappearing,” she huffs, and walks right up to the door, knocking a crisp three times. 

Gaara is across the hall, arms crossed. He’s pretending like he’s not interested, but… he really is. 

~~

“ _ What? _ Who is it?” Kankuro calls out, with no attempt to mask his irritation. He’s clearly busy with Kiba still laying on top of him, and he has no intention of moving unless it’s urgent or someone is dying, and this is clear from the way his eyes are still closed, his head tipped forward onto Kiba’s shoulder. 

“It’s me,” says Temari hesitantly. Kankuro doesn’t  _ sound _ busy. “It’s important. I have some documents you need to look over--” there’s a sound of shuffling behind the door as Temari starts to dig in her bag, looking for something she can use as an excuse. 

“Seriously?” Kankuro sighs, and has to gently nudge Kiba off of him, whispering, “sorry.”

Kiba mumbles something about having to wash his face anyway- it’s covered in smeared face paint and other suggestive fluids- and heads off to the bathroom while Kankuro gets up. 

It’s only Temari, so that’s why Kankuro thinks to answer the door wearing only a pair of pants, but had he remembered the collection of hickeys across his neck, collarbone and chest, he probably would’ve opted for a shirt. 

“What?” Kankuro grunts, as he leans against the door frame. His hair is sticking up. 

“I--” Temari stammers. She counts at least four hickeys and she’s thoroughly uncomfortable, but also furious that she can’t figure out who this mystery man is.

“Temari, he’s busy,” Gaara pipes up from a few feet behind her. 

“Yeah. I’m busy,” Kankuro says flatly. “What did you want me to sign, or whatever?”

Temari is focused on craning her neck slightly just so she can try and peek into the room. 

Kankuro leans right in her line of vision to block her, rolling his eyes. “Mind your own business.

“Who’s in your hotel room?” Temari asks, arms crossed. Can’t she be a concerned sister? Doesn’t she have the right to know?

“No one,” Kankuro huffs, “and like I said, mind your own--”

“Hey, Kankuro, the towels in there are so soft, you should try one--” Kiba stops on his way back from the bathroom, freezing in the path of the doorway. “Oh, hey, Temari! Didn’t see you there,” he says simply. “Kankuro, have you seen Akamaru?”

Kankuro looks like he might faint, eyes flickering between his sister and Kiba over and over again. 

“It’s Kiba,” Temari blinks, turning around to face Gaara, “ _ and Akamaru.” _

_ “ _ Kankuro has always liked dogs.”

_ “Gaara!” _

Rather than taking offense, Kiba instead pries the door open as he comes onto Kankuro’s side, slinging a skinny arm around Kankuro’s shoulder. Kankuro has to bend down in order for him to do so. “He totally likes dogs.”

“Welcome to the family,” Gaara pipes up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe come say hey on tumblr! @shadowstrangle


	9. Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is mostly drabble and fluff but it truly got me warm and fuzzy :')

It seems like every single thing Kankuro has chosen to keep private lately has come barreling into the open. There’s a lot crossing his mind right now: the fact that his good-for-nothing siblings are spying on him, the fact that he  _ looks like this,  _ the weight of Kiba’s arm around his neck while he grins at Kankuro’s siblings like they’ve been friends for years (and they certainly haven’t been very close.)

“Well,” Temari is the first one to finally speak, clearing her throat. “This can wait. I didn’t know you were so....” her eyes are fixed on the doorframe rather than her brother and his equally shirtless lover, “...busy.”

“You fuckin’ said it was important!” Kankuro splutters. It’s clear that he’s equally taken aback by this situation. 

“You freak out too much,” says Kiba, and pats Kankuro’s chest affectionately, supportively, like nothing had just happened as he brushes past him. Presumably it’s to look for Akamaru, but he recognizes that maybe Kankuro requires some alone time with his siblings. 

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with Kiba,” Gaara hums. 

“I’m not--” Kankuro’s voice is raised, but he lowers it to that of an angry whisper. “I’m  _ not.” _

“Can’t you see they were enjoying a platonic afternoon?” Gaara says wryly. 

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business!” Kankuro snaps.

“I told you he’d freak out,” says Temari, shaking his head. 

“I knew he’d freak out, too. I was just curious,” Gaara says casually. 

“You planned this?!” Kankuro interjects. “Who does that?! Who fucking--”

“You were being weird and secretive!” Temari argues. “Disappearing everywhere!”

“I’m an adult!” 

“So that gives you an excuse to be a sneaky little freak?”

“I chose to keep this private for a reason!” Kankuro argues. “So keep your mouth shut, huh? This isn’t something I want going around the whole village. It’s  _ nobody’s damn business.” _

“Nobody’s going to go around saying that you’re sleeping with Kiba,” says Gaara, and each time Kankuro hears it, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

“Stop saying it like that!”

“Like what? ‘Sleeping with Kiba?’ How else would I--”

“You’re  _ being weird!”  _ Kankuro cries out, and Gaara nods analytically. Kankuro can see gears turning in his head. “And stop thinking of other ways to say it!”

“Alright, alright. We’re going,” Temari says, tugging on Gaara’s arm. 

“Try not to listen against the door on your way out,” Kankuro retorts. 

“Try not to answer the door looking like you walked out of a brothel,” Temari shoots back, as she nudges Gaara ahead of her to start walking, already on her way out. 

When Kankuro shuts the door, he leans against it, letting out a deep breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Fuck. Sorry. They’re- I don’t even know. Does your sister spy on you like that?”

Kiba laughs from his spot on the bed. Akamaru is sprawled out next to him. “Hmm? No. But that’s because my sister already knows.”

“What?” This catches Kankuro’s attention.

“I told her I met somebody,” he shrugs, “she knows where I’m going, she’s not stupid.”

Kankuro suddenly realizes how fundamentally different they are. 

~

The next day, the timing of the Chunin exams is perfect. Kankuro is still irritated with both of his siblings, and he has to spend a solid chunk of the day sandwiched between them watching the exams. For most of the morning, he’s rather grumpy and he chalks it up to the fact that he’s tired and woke up early this morning, but he also can’t stand to be in the same room as his nosy brother and sister. 

“Did you submit the poison documents?” Temari asks Kankuro offhandedly, as the first round comes to a close and preparations begin for the next. 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you spy on me and find out?” Kankuro says, arms crossed over his chest. 

_ “I don’t know, why don’t you spy on me and find out? _ ” Temari mimics in a low voice. 

“I don’t know, why don’t you--” Kankuro parrots right back, his voice equally high, but they’re cutting each other off now. 

“I don’t know, why don’t you--”

_ “I don’t know, why--” _

Just as they’re about to put their hands on each other, there are two tendrils of sand yanking them apart. “Shut up,” says Gaara flatly, eyes still trained on the arena, his arms crossed like they always are. Kankuro wonders if Gaara thinks that he invented that pose. 

“You shut up,” Kankuro says. When he tries to shove Gaara, the sand only gets in the way. “You’re not off the hook, either.”

“You’re supposed to be watching for potential Chunin.”

“And you’re supposed to not be a nosy brat. It’s funny how that works out,” Kankuro says sarcastically. 

Gaara just yawns, and Kankuro decides that he wants to punch him in the face. 

~

Kankuro is the first person out of the observation room when the midday break hits. A fight with Gaara and Temari is nothing they can’t get over- this happens weekly with them, as they bicker like no other- but it’s one of those days where he can’t stand to share a space with them. 

Besides, half of him is wondering why he’s even so upset that they know. It’s not like he has some overarching secret anymore. Beyond that, Kankuro trusts his siblings with his life. They know the gravity of his situation, especially in their home village, and they’re not about to sell him out. Logically, he feels that he might still be ashamed of himself, even if he’s too much of a man to admit it. 

As he leans against the outside of the stadium, there’s two peculiar things about the break he takes. One, he’d bummed a cigarette from a friendly Konoha shinobi and he rarely smokes, but feels like he needs one. Two, he doesn’t notice there’s somebody standing near him until she coughs from the smoke and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“S-Sorry, sorry, it’s not the cigarette, don’t worry,” she says, when Kankuro turns towards her. It’s definitely the cigarette that made her cough like that, but she won’t say that. 

Kankuro is struggling to remember who the hell this girl is. He doesn’t think they’ve ever formally met. He remembers her face, and he  _ definitely  _ remembers her eyes; the same ones as Neji’s. But who was she always hanging around..?

“It’s probably the cig,” says Kankuro, giving an apologetic smile and purposely holding it in his other hand, the one further away from her. The next drag he takes, he cordially blows the smoke in the opposite direction. 

She seems nervous when she looks at him. Kankuro wonders if he’s that intimidating, or maybe it’s because he towers over her in height. “You’re Kankuro, right?” She asks. 

“Uh huhhh,” Kankuro says, the last syllable dragged out as he blows out another cloud of smoke. Oh, this is awkward. He has no idea of her name. 

“I just saw you and wanted to- to say hello,” she stammers, a small smile on her face. “Kiba-kun and I are teammates, and… very close friends.”

There is an unspoken look between them that indicates Hinata knows. 

Kankuro’s hand freezes in bringing the cigarette to his lips. No wonder he recognizes her- Kiba only talks about her all the time. “Hinata,” he says suddenly, pointing to her, as if a lightbulb had gone off. “I’m sorry. I’m bad with names. It took me a minute. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure we must have met when we were fourteen, but that doesn’t count, does it?” He jokes. He suddenly feels nervous with the unconscious need to impress her. This is someone that’s special to Kiba, right? 

“No, no, that’s very much okay,” Hinata laughs, and she seems elated with the fact that he remembered her name. “It’s nice to meet you too, I…” her voice trails off, and she can’t seem to keep eye contact with him. “...talked to Kiba, this morning. During training. And he speaks very highly of you.”

It’s Kankuro’s turn to laugh. “He does?”

“Yes!” Hinata beams. “And I… forgive me if I’m out of line, I just- I- Kiba is very important to me,” she begins, “and… he is very happy lately, and he’s been talking about you…”

Kankuro remembers Kiba describing Hinata as  _ living fuckin’ breathing sunshine,  _ and now he understands what Kiba was talking about. The feeling in his chest upon hearing that he’s important to Kiba is something new entirely, but he can tell that’s not what Hinata is trying to say, and he’s courteously silent while waiting for her to spit it out. 

“...and I believe he deserves all the love in the world,” Hinata continues. “He might- he might seem all rough and all talk, but he’s not. He- he has a sensitive side. I guess… I guess I’m just asking you…”

“Not to hurt him,” Kankuro says. “Is that it?”

Hinata’s eyes widen. “Not that I- think you would! I- I just--”

Kankuro shakes his head, tapping the edge of his cigarette against the wall. “Hinata,” he says, and Hinata looks petrified, like she’s offended him. It’s far from that. Her eyes only get wider when he bows. “I promise you don’t have to worry.”

When Kankuro tips his body back up, Hinata has a smile on her face. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she nods back at him. 

“No need to thank me. You, uh. You want one?” Kankuro says, offering the second cigarette he has. He’s just about run out in his capacity to be emotional, and has reverted back to being awkwardly and unfortunately masculine. 

Hinata hides a laugh, shaking her head quickly. “No, no. You… you can have it. I couldn’t impose.”

“You sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive. Thank you.” 

An awkward silence hangs between them, and as Kankuro lights another cigarette he inhales thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!”

“Where the hell do I take Kiba on a date?”

Hinata’s eyes widen fondly, and she clutches at her shirt. “Kiba on a date?” She echoes, “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what you do, right?” Kankuro grunts. 

“I suppose,” she smiles. “Let’s see… Kiba likes… he likes to walk. Especially- especially at night when the moon is out. He likes to shop- he always spends all of his money when we go somewhere new on a mission. And- and he’s very good at outdoorsy things, he loves to be outside… he hates thunderstorms, though, so don’t go out in the rain, they’re too loud for him… fireworks too...” she lists, clearly grasping for straws. “Whiskey! Kiba likes whiskey. And music. And--”

“Hinata! They’re starting again in a few minutes, that really creepy kid with the water style is up!” Cutting through the humid summer air is Kiba’s voice, loud and obnoxious as ever, as he waves from the entrance of the stadium. Kankuro and Hinata are not too far from it. 

Hinata jumps, clearly startled, though smiles and waves.

Akamaru runs up to them, wagging his tail happily, and Kiba follows. Before he can even say hello, he scrunches up his nose. “You smell like a  _ fuckin’ ashtray,  _ God,” he grimaces at Kankuro. 

Apologetically, Kankuro drops his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his shoe. “Sorry.”

“Ugh. You should be. Those give you cancer, you know,” Kiba complains, shaking his head, face still scrunched. It makes Kankuro laugh. 

“What kid were you talking about?” Kankuro asks. “I don’t remember a notable water style user.”

“You had to have seen him! Oh, man, he was slimy as hell. I want to see him in the next round. And there’s a puppeteer kid,” Kiba says. “Did you see him?”

“A puppeteer?” Kankuro brightens. It’s been a lost art as of late. Right now, Kankuro’s one of the best puppeteers in Suna, but with a war looming, he doesn’t exactly have the time to be training Genin. 

“Yeah! Didn’t you know?” Kiba asks. 

“He was quite good in the forest,” says Hinata. “We assumed he was from the Sand, but he’s not.”

“You’re kidding! I can’t believe I missed him,” hums Kankuro, “is he up soon?”

“I think he’s the second match,” says Kiba. “Are you on elite Kazekage stuff? Come watch with us.”

Technically, Kankuro is on ‘elite Kazekage stuff’. But two matches can’t hurt, right? Then he’ll go back to the Kage box. 

~ 

Kiba glows on the walk up to their seats because Kankuro is with them. Not only has Kankuro chosen to spend time with him- he’s spending time with Hinata, too. Kiba finds that more attractive than anything else. 

It could also be that Kankuro’s all done up, looking fully professional in his puppeteer garb and face paint, with scrolls hanging on his back. From his appearance and stature alone, Kankuro intimidates people. And Kiba thinks that’s the hottest thing in the world. 

Both of them remain strictly professional while they watch the first fight. Kiba is sitting in between Hinata and Kankuro, and he resists the urge to do things like nudge Kankuro’s shoulder or whisper something in his ear. As much as he wishes he didn’t, he knows better than that right now. 

Although, that gets monumentally harder when the puppeteer genin comes out, and Kiba gets to see Kankuro’s face light up with such interest and passion. He likes that Kankuro allows himself to get excited about things, that he’s never shy about cheering somebody on, that he can get loud and crazy and fun. It seems no one’s ever entirely on Kiba’s wavelength except Kankuro. 

“Don’t let him get close to you!” Hollers Kankuro, as if the genin can see him. “Long range attacks only! Let’s go!” 

“If only some genin knew you were cheering him on,” Kiba grins, “wouldn’t he just go crazy?”

“I’m totally not that cool,” Kankuro shakes his head. “When I build the ultimate attack puppet, though? Then you can hype me up.”

“I’ve got no doubt in my mind. Bring it sometime when you visit me as Hokage.”

“It’s a deal--  _ fucking crush him, come on! _ ”

In the end, the puppeteer wins, and Kankuro is so proud he feels like he trained this child himself. He doesn’t really have any desire to go back to the Kage box, but he knows he has to. He’s working. 

“Hey,” he says to Kiba as he gets up, “Are you busy tonight?”

There’s a series of festivals running through town all week because of the exams. Those who aren’t participating actually have an opportunity to have a pretty decent time. 

“Not really,” Kiba answers. “Was going to run around the festivals, maybe.”

“Run around with me later,” is what Kankuro says, causing Kiba’s face to break into a grin. 

It’s only when he’s far enough into the crowd and up the stairs that Hinata turns to Kiba and says, “Oh, he is very smooth.”

~

Nearly nine hours later, Kiba has dragged Kankuro through practically every stand the festival has to offer. To his dismay, Kiba is not very good at any games, and loses about seventy percent of them. He’s won a fan and a goldfish so far, but he’d given the goldfish to Shino because  _ fish are weird and he likes weird stuff, he’ll take it.  _ It’s getting late, and the fireworks are scheduled to start at eleven. 

“All those games are rigged, y’know. They purposely make them so you can’t win,” Kiba says matter-of-factly. He’s fanning himself with his cheap toy fan and sucking on a cheap candy at the same time. 

“Mm, no. I think you just suck at them,” Kankuro shrugs, and Kiba glares at him. 

“That’s totally not what you were supposed to say.”

“I’m often out of line,” Kankuro jokes. “You all done? I have something to show you.”

Kiba sighs, “I guess there’s no other game I can play anymore. They’re starting to close everything down anyway for fireworks- is it something cool?”

“I think it’s pretty cool. I’m hoping you’ll like it too.”

It’s only one of the first romantic gestures Kankuro has made in his entire life. He’s only a little bit nervous. A little bit. On one hand, he’s immensely proud of himself for coming up with the idea all by himself. On the other hand, he worries it’ll seem stupid. 

“You’re making me nervous! Surprises make me queasy,” Kiba protests. 

“It’s nothing that special,” Kankuro laughs lightly, “and it’s not really a surprise, you don’t have to freak out… I just thought it would be fun.”

“Is that why we’re going up in the grass?”

“Kind of.”

**TRACK 5 - TENNESSEE WHISKEY - CHRIS STAPLETON**

Near where the festival streets are, the grass turns into the forest, which would normally scatter around the training fields. But there’s a certain spot that gets rather hilly over by the water, high and peaceful, overlooking the entire village. They’d passed it on their run a few days ago- Kankuro doesn’t think he could forget it because Kiba had purposely run up and down it. 

Kankuro had originally chosen this spot for privacy, but also for the sheer beauty of it. He’s not used to grassy meadows and warm summer nights. The moon hangs high overlooking the village and illuminating the grass, reflecting over the water, too. 

“Your surprise is us hanging out up here?” Kiba has his hands on his hips, grinning at the view, nodding as he looks around. “Nice.”

“What?” Kankuro laughs, “Is the bar really that low? No. I think… you deserve a little more than that. I hope this works.” 

Summoning and storing things in scrolls is something that takes time to perfect. It’s especially difficult to get more than one object stored in a scroll, and a lot of the jutsus are different and require various formulas. And so, Kankuro had thought, what better way to store a date than in a scroll?

“Don’t make fun of me if it doesn’t. I don’t have a plan B,” Kankuro warns, as he unfurls a scroll. He cringes when the summoning shows up, is too nervous to open his eyes to see the results.

By a stroke of luck and ninjutsu, it turns out just how he arranged it. There’s a blanket set out over the grass, with a variety of things on top of it (including but not limited to a CD player, a bottle of Jack, and even a bone for Akamaru.) “I figured,” Kankuro says, as he sits down and holds out a hand for Kiba to join him, “that once the fireworks started we could move back here. ‘Cause they’re loud.” He’ll have to thank Hinata for that hint. 

Taking Kankuro’s hand to sit next to him, Kiba notices it’s the first time they’ve had a chance to touch all day. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed something like this until he’d been without it. “How’d you know I hate fireworks, huh?” He asks. His eyes are wide with something like fond, suddenly so lovestruck at the notion of somebody knowing little things about him. 

“You’ve got weird dog ears, right? Isn’t everything louder for you?” Kankuro says nonchalantly, although truthfully, he hadn’t been smart enough to connect the dots about this on his own.

“Yeah-  _ yeah.  _ I do have weird dog ears,” Kiba says. He’s smiling so wide that his back teeth are showing. 

“What are you smiling about?” Kankuro asks. He’s sitting with his hands back to support himself, though he leans in so his head tips forward, right against Kiba’s. 

“Shut up. I’m not smiling.”

“You are!”

“I’m not!” Kiba grins. “You’re just- you’re being a real fuckin’ sweetheart. Y’know that? It’s  _ gross. _ ”

“So gross,” Kankuro seconds. Their noses are pressed together, though there is no sign of a kiss yet. They’re just close. 

“Super gross,” Kiba declares, bringing a hand to the side of Kankuro’s face. He moves back then, slightly, just because he wants to get a look at him. He’s handsome, truly, with a sharp jaw and a strong nose, dark eyes and hair that looks permanently messy no matter what he does with it. “And totally the coolest date I’ve ever been on.”

Kiba leans into him gently, keeping the kiss short and tender. They’ll have plenty of time for kissing later, but he doesn’t think he can go another second without one. 

“Been wanting to do that all day,” Kankuro murmurs. He wonders if Kiba can hear the apology in his voice. 

“Politics are a sham.”

“Aren’t they?”

Kiba hums in response, glancing over to the contents of the bag next to them. He’s first attracted to the small whiskey bottle. There’s not nearly enough to be wildly drunk- perhaps enough for a light buzz if they finished it. “You remembered I like this too?”

“Of course I did.” Kankuro didn’t need Hinata for this one- he had this memorized since they’d gone out for drinks. “Are you surprised?”

“Would you believe me if I said this was the first time somebody’s done something like this for me?” Kiba asks, almost looks embarrassed, and covers it with a laugh. 

“No kidding?” Kankuro says. He puts an arm around Kiba’s shoulders, hand absentmindedly rubbing Kiba’s arm. “Would you believe me if I said this was the first time I’ve ever done something like this for somebody?”

“Stop fuckin’ around.”

“I’m serious!”

“Really?”

Kankuro nods, watching as Kiba unscrews the whiskey cap and takes a sip. It makes him scrunch his face up, shaking his head at the burn of it. There must be a joke here somewhere about masculinity- the irony of drinking whiskey straight but kissing a man right after- tasting it on his lips. Maybe Kankuro can’t think of it because he doesn’t think like that lately. “I never met anyone worth doing it for.”

Kiba looks over at him fondly as he passes the bottle. “No kidding?” He parrots. He’s noticed that he’s picked up this phrase from Kankuro over the course of the week.

“Oh, you are so fuckin’ cute. God,” Kankuro shakes his head, because he catches it too. 

Kiba closes his eyes with a close-lipped smile, tipping his head comfortably into Kankuro’s neck. They stay like this, sharing a bottle of whiskey, and within the hour the fireworks start in the distance. There’s not much sound but gentle  _ crackles  _ and  _ pops  _ instead, so peaceful that Akamaru can snooze right through them from his nearby spot in the grass. It’s the only fireworks show Kiba’s ever enjoyed. 

Indistinguishably, this is the most alive Kankuro has felt in months. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello at @shadowstrangle on tumblr!  
> it's 3 AM here. I have class in the morning... and this is what I'm up to.   
> cheers!


	10. Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia & mild homophobic slurs  
> this is by far the proudest i've ever been of a chapter  
> i wrote and rewrote this chapter 2-3 times -- it went many different ways but this is the final product and i am so so proud of it

**TRACK 6: GROW AS WE GO - BEN PLATT**

After their first proper date, the days begin to pass just as fast as the nights. Kankuro is, for once, motivated to get home from work. He has someone waiting for him, and finds himself settling into Konoha rather pleasantly by his first month there. Because the exams are held in intervals set apart by a few weeks, he has a lot of downtime between the planning and actual exam periods- there’s no feasible reason for him to go back to Suna just to come right back- although Gaara takes a trip back about halfway through their stay to take care of some business. Kankuro thinks it’s a strange little honeymoon, because _Sakura goes with him,_ but he decides it’s none of his business (he’s not a dirty little spy!) Besides, he only stops for a few days, and comes right back for the next phase of the exams. 

In the meantime, it becomes a routine for Kiba to spend the night when he’s not busy. Of course, he still has local missions and training sessions, so he’s usually tired, but always seems to find energy for Kankuro (especially Kankuro.)

On the morning of his fifth week in Konoha, Kankuro wakes up at what must be the witching hour the next morning because it’s still dark out. Perhaps he’d woken up because there’s so much weight on him that he can’t possibly move. 

Kiba is sprawled on top of him, drooling onto his chest, an arm strewn over Kankuro, legs tangled between his. Lying on top of one of his shins is Akamaru, shamelessly taking up an entire section of the bed himself. Both of them are walking space heaters, especially Kiba, and he snores so loud Kankuro wants to shove him (but Kankuro knows he is the same way from years of his siblings’ complaints, so he doesn’t.) 

Kiba moves a lot in his sleep. He’s actually the worst- he kicks, he grunts, he talks, he twitches. He does just about everything Akamaru does, minus the barking. Kankuro thinks he should be annoyed by it, but he’s not. In the back of his mind, he wonders what it will be like when the exams are over and he’ll have to sleep in his empty bed back home. How much will he wish for Kiba’s elbow to jab him in the side then?

They haven’t remotely touched on anything like this. Kankuro personally doesn’t intend on bringing a single thing up until he and Kiba part ways. Perhaps this is an incredibly immature and fragile thing to do- sue him. Emotional confrontation has never been his strong suit. Like he does with most things, Kankuro pushes this thought to another corner of his mind. He can’t lie here worrying about this when he has something- _someone_ wonderful right in front of him. 

With a grunt, Kankuro has to heave Kiba’s weight off of him in order to turn over onto his side. He’s a side sleeper by nature, actually, but Kiba always ends up forcing him onto his back somehow.

Unhappy with the shift in position, Kiba huffs in his sleep. In fact, he turns around onto his side as well, facing away from Kankuro. He manages to be a brat even while asleep.

To be honest, Kankuro is grateful for the break. For a moment, Kankuro gets a chance to breathe normally again, wipe the drool off his bare chest, and actually feel the air on his skin instead of Kiba against him. But after a few minutes, the chill of the air conditioner settles on Kankuro’s skin, and he takes back his decision.

Reaching one arm out, Kankuro pulls Kiba’s back to his chest, his nose pressed to the inside of Kiba’s neck. His arm winds around Kiba’s front, leg coming over his as well.

“I’ll go to the store tomorrow,” Kiba mumbles thickly, clearly dreaming about something that Kankuro doesn’t have the clearance to understand.

Kiba’s hand settles over where Kankuro’s is, giving a contented sort of sigh as he 

Settles comfortably back into him. “...no, I don’t have enough money for that…” he continues his sleep-driven ramble.

Kankuro closes his eyes, a smile on his lips. He falls back asleep easily. 

~

_“Why aren’t you eating anything? Your food will get cold.” Gentle hands place a bowl in front of him, still steaming from the stove._

_“I dunno, Chiyo called me chubby a while back, I’ve been cutting back a little-- what are you doing here?” Kankuro asks, eyes wide._

_“I can’t make my son something to eat?” Karura asks, tilting her head with a laugh. “Besides, I think it’s time we talked, yes?”_

_“Thank you.” So as to not disrespect her, Kankuro takes a bite. It’s been a while since someone made him dinner. He’s used to cooking for himself._

_She sits in front of him, the steam from her bowl wafting up in front of her face. “And what was Chiyo saying about you being chubby? I think you look just fine. Handsome. I bet you’re taller than me now, aren’t you? You were so little the last time I saw you…”_

_Kankuro brightens momentarily, smiling against his chopsticks. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty tall now,” he says, straightening up as if to make himself bigger._

_“You have your father’s face,” says his mother, “the spitting image.”_

_Kankuro shrugs. Sometimes- most of the time- he wishes he wasn’t._

_“You have something different than he does, though. You’re kind,” says Karura, “and compassionate, and respectful. You're a strong shinobi. A good leader. I’ve been watching this whole time. I’m so proud of you.”_

_Kankuro feels his face breaking into a smile. “You have? Did you- oh, did you see me fight Sasori? And- and I sparred with Gaara a while ago and actually got some hits in. And Temari is the best wind style user, like, ever. And Gaara is the Kazekage! Did you see that?”_

_Karura laughs. “My eager, curious child. You always have been. I’ve seen everything. I can’t believe you three are my children. I did see one thing I didn’t like, though.”_

_Kankuro’s breath hitches. “Huh?”_

_“My eldest son has a tattoo.” Karura’s arms cross._

_Kankuro visibly deflates in relief as he remembers the faded scorpion on his thigh. “Oh, that old thing? I had a couple beers…”_

_“Have you been remembering the shinobi prohibitions?”_

_“I- yeah, yeah,” Kankuro says bashfully._

_“Don’t lie to your mother,” Karura says. “But you seem like you were scared I would say something else.”_

_Doesn’t she know? If she’s been watching him? Can’t she see?_

_“Do you notice anything different about me, mama?” Kankuro asks hesitantly._

_“I notice you are happier,” says Karura, reaching across the table to take one of his hands. “I notice you falling in love.”_

_“But I don’t--”_

_“Oh, Kankuro,” she says, squeezing his hand, “don’t you realize you deserve all the love that comes to you?”_

_“Are you sure? Because, mama, sometimes I feel like I’m doing something wrong,” Kankuro squeezes his eyes shut, “sometimes it feels… all wrong.”_

_When Kankuro opens his eyes again, the table is gone and he’s standing. Instead of in front of him, Karura is at his side. She barely comes up to his shoulder. She steps in front of him again, placing her hands on both of his shoulders. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong,” she says. “Do you understand me?”_

_“Why are you telling me this?” Kankuro asks weakly. “Why are you here? I don’t understand.” He’d never been old enough to have a conversation with his mother like this. Certainly not about his adult life._

_“Because a mother knows when her child is hurting,” Karura answers._

_Kankuro feels arms around him that he doesn’t even remember, the same kind of hug that he’d never gotten the chance to experience as a child, the kind that he would’ve given anything to feel_ **_just one more time._ **

_“You are my son,” says Karura, “and it’s my job to protect you from that.”_

_Kankuro suddenly realizes that his mother smells the same way Temari does, that he’s overcome with the powerful sensation of_ **_home_ ** _when he wraps his arms around her in return._

_“You are full of love, Kankuro. You are kind. You are gentle. You are smart.”_

_Kankuro doesn’t feel the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I am?”_

_“You’re my son, aren’t you?”_

_“But mom, I’m—“_

_“Perfect. You are perfect,” says Karura, pushing back to cup his face in her hands. “Look at your handsome face. Oh, Kankuro, don’t you know that nothing could make me love you less? Let yourself be happy.”_

_~_

Kankuro wakes with a start, his chest heaving, his breathing shallow. It’s well into the morning now, sunlight is streaming through the blinds and painting itself on the white walls of his hotel room. When he brings a hand up to rub his eyes, the corners are wet with tears, and he wonders when he ever started crying. 

Kankuro knows that it’s possible for loved ones to visit your dreams, but to what extent? How could she possibly have known anything about him? For all of Kankuro’s years doubting an afterlife, he feels suddenly pressured to live impeccably well. He can’t imagine disappointing his mother. On the other hand, he feels a different kind of warmth, a sense of peace that settles itself in the back of his mind. 

He doesn’t have time to keep thinking. It’s only when Kiba shifts on top of him that he realizes he’s been moved _again._ By some work of witchcraft and petulance, Kiba’s reclaimed his spot on Kankuro’s chest, and Kankuro’s on his back again. 

With a yawn and a lazy smack of his lips, Kiba’s head finally comes up. His hair is sticking up in the back, and his eyes are hooded with sleep. “Yr’awake already?” He mumbles. 

“Yeah,” Kankuro laughs lightly, his arm coming around Kiba, “I had the wildest dream.”

“Hmm?” Kiba settles against Kankuro’s arm, though within a second or two decides to move up, snuggling into his neck. “‘Bout what?”

“It was…” Kankuro’s voice trails off, low and rumbling in his chest, “It was my mom. I met my mom.”

Kankuro can feel Kiba’s head tipping up. Despite being a loud and distracting talker, Kiba listens when it’s important. His voice is still thick with sleep as well. “You were real young when she died, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“What’d she say?” Kiba asks. 

“She said…” Kankuro lets out a little laugh, “She.. was mad that I had a tattoo, and that I’m not chubby, and… she’s proud of me.” 

“‘Course she’s proud of ya,” Kiba lets his eyes fall closed, his lips pressing to Kankuro’s neck. “You’re a helluva guy.” The air is silent save for the _smack_ of a light kiss he gives Kankuro. Then he adds, “And you’re not chubby, either.”

Kiba is never poetic- something Kankuro particularly likes about him. 

“I don’t know much about this kind of stuff,” Kiba pipes up after a moment, “but I do know that when people come all that way to see you… they mean it, huh?”

Kankuro presses Kiba closer to him. “You’ve got a good way of looking at things.”

~

**TRACK 7: HOLD BACK THE RIVER - JAMES BAY**

While walking Kiba home that morning, after Kiba wakes him up by making him see stars, Kiba knocks the breath out of Kankuro’s lungs by asking, “Kankuro?”

“Hmm?” 

“What are we?”

Kankuro stands frozen on the path, staring at Kiba like he’s from space. They’re right by Kiba’s house, but Kiba has no intentions of going inside. 

“What? You deaf?” Kiba snaps his fingers in front of Kankuro’s face teasingly. “You heard me.”

Kiba never asks for attention or respect- he demands it. While it’s very attractive in some respects, it serves to annoy Kankuro right now. “I heard you.”

“So answer me instead of looking at me like I’ve got three heads?”

Kankuro feels like a fish out of water, clinging to every inch of moisture in the air in the hopes that something might save him. What does Kiba want to hear? What does Kankuro want to say? And more than that, what will Kankuro’s mind _let him_ say? “We’re…” he pauses. “We’re seeing each other. Right?”

“That’s it?” Kiba snorts, rolling his eyes. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Kankuro protests.

Kiba laughs, a little bit bitter, a little bit angry, and walks ahead of him. “I kind of knew you would say that, you know? Somethin’ stupid.”

“Kiba,” Kankuro says exasperatedly. “Come on.”

He’s talking to Kiba’s back, but Kiba turns his head to look at him. “Were you in that bed with me just now? Was that you?”

“Kiba,” Kankuro says again.

“Cause that’s not how two people that are just _seeing each other_ act.”

“Keep your voice down,” Kankuro pleads, even though they’re the only two in the street. It’s still early, and Kiba’s clan lives near the outer edges of the village, anyway. 

“Oh, yeah? Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so crowded!” Kiba retorts.

“Why are you getting so upset?!”

“Cause I’m, like.” It’s rare to see Kiba think before he speaks, but now, Kankuro catches him in a pause, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders sharp. “‘Cause I’m fuckin’ in love with you, you know? And I don’t really care if you don’t love me back, but I know that you do.” By the way he shifts his weight back and forth, he’s nervous. And Kankuro doesn’t know Kiba to be an anxious person. “So I’d just rather that you had the fuckin’ balls to say it.”

Kankuro’s chest blooms with something tight and unfamiliar, with the freedom of indulging in something that makes him happy, but also with the constraints of feeling like he’s garbage because of it. How much longer can he bear a punishment for being himself?

His own self-doubt has not only gnawed at his psyche and left him nothing but his skull, but effectively ruined the beauty of Kiba telling him he’s in love with him. Kiba loves everything that he is, brashly, _intensely,_ passionately. And all Kankuro can do is stare at him. Kiba puts himself out to the world unapologetically, wearing his heart on his sleeve and then some, and Kankuro can’t believe he’s repaying him like this. 

~

**SUNAGAKURE (14 YEARS AGO)**

_“Disgusting! Disgraceful!”_

_From the hallway, eight year old eyes watch Chiyo slam her hands on their kitchen table, while Rasa sits across from her. “Chiyo, don’t be so angry. We’re dealing with it.”_

_“It’s all your generation, and the ones after, too. You have to set an example, Kazekage-sama. You can’t possibly have a strong military force when it’s full of men kissing each other, can you?”_

_“Chiyo--”_

_“They’re all trying to make it popular, too, after you made an example of that couple. You have to deal with this. What happens when the women start with it, too? Before you know it, you won’t have any more new generations. It’ll just be a bunch of unnaturals.”_

_“I agree completely. Certainly we’ll have to remind them of the law.”_

_Kankuro doesn’t know why his father scares him so much when he talks._

_~_

**THE LAND OF LIGHTNING (11 YEARS AGO)**

_“What are you, a girl? Is that why you’ve got makeup on your eyes?” On a C-rank intel mission between academies when he’s eleven years old, Kankuro runs into a team of genin that look stupider than he’s ever imagined._

_“It’s paint,” Kankuro huffs. “It’s traditional where I’m from. You don’t know very much, do you?”_

_“I know enough!” One of the kids jeers. “What mission are you on, anyway? Finding a boy to kiss? You’re wearing just enough lipstick for it!”_

_Kankuro’s fingers trace over the purple on his lips, that most certainly isn’t lipstick. He wonders, with shaking fingers, do they know that purple is the color of royalty? “You better watch your mouth. I’ll kick your ass.” Do they know that purple was the color his mother wore?_

_“Did you guys hear that? This little faggot is gonna kick my ass!”_

_~_

By now, Kankuro’s unresponsiveness has not only irritated Kiba, but made him turn back around and scoff. For someone with catlike reflexes and tactical brilliance, Kankuro is a dope in social situations. Kiba should have known that he wouldn’t get an answer, but at the very least, he would’ve liked Kankuro to lie to him, maybe. 

Kankuro feels something like a hand on his shoulder, then, enough to make him look to his right. There’s nobody there, and suddenly, _suddenly,_ he knows what he has to do. He can hear it in his mind:

_Let yourself be happy._

“Kiba,” Kankuro finally says, can barely hear his own voice with the way his heart is hammering in his ears. He wonders if Kiba can hear it. 

Kiba turns, a sharp eyebrow raised, that same little snaggle-tooth hanging off his lip as he looks over. 

“I love you,” Kankuro says breathlessly, watching Kiba’s body turn closer to him, the way both his eyebrows raise now. 

Kiba’s lips twitch with accomplishment, like he wants to smile but won’t quite let himself. “Hmm?”

“I love you,” Kankuro repeats, blinking owlishly, his eyes fixed on Kiba’s warm brown ones. 

Then, in a fit of _I don’t care_ and _come here,_ in a fit of _I love your eyes_ and _let them see,_ Kankuro tugs Kiba’s wrist over to him and pulls him into a kiss. 

It’s the kind that makes his cheeks turn red while his heart pounds in his chest. Kiba is taken aback as he tumbles right into Kankuro, eyes open while their lips press together. If Kiba were overly critical he’d have noticed the way Kankuro’s hand is sweating around his wrist, or how his fingers shake. They always do that when he’s nervous. 

Instead, he chooses to let his eyes close. Kiba always gets what he wants, doesn’t he? It’s blasphemous to think that Kankuro is any exception. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me me PRAYING y'all felt the same feelings i did during this  
> a few actual notes:  
> 1\. Did anyone catch that Gaara had a few days off with Sakura? ;) another oneshot may be on its way...  
> 2\. I have been waiting to have Kankuro's dream about Karura for AGES! I kind of imagined it in the same manner as when Naruto met Kushina in the dreamscape for the first time. I'd like to think that in the same way Karura instilled her chakra & protection in Gaara, she watches over Temari and Kankuro as well. Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep.  
> 2.5. I constantly switched back and forth between Kankuro calling Karura "ma," "mom," and "mama." I think Kankuro is a big sweetheart with a lot of love for his mother that he never really got to act on. "Mama" felt perfect.  
> 3\. Is anyone as turned on by Kankuro's thigh tattoo as I am? Just me? Ok  
> 4\. I really didn't intend on making Chiyo homophobic and mean sksksks she just has to be for the sake of this story. We stan Chiyo and her later redemption!!! She still saved Gaara!!!  
> 5\. I was going to make the kids who bullied Kankuro over his paint Sunan, but I don't think other sand kids would bully him for it- they'd probably recognize its significance. There's a lot of theories about Kankuro's face paint (most of them stemming from its theatrical roots in traditional Japanese kabuki) but the part about it being purple for Karura is my own personal headcanon :) she wears a purple/maroon outfit in the few pictures I've seen of her. 
> 
> Sorry these notes were so long hhhhh if anyone wants to analyze the sand siblings with me further or anything at all my tumblr asks/messages are always open at @shadowstrangle !!!!!


	11. Dog Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to Nava, ( [go follow her on tumblr!!](https://navajja.tumblr.com/)) who is responsible for all these kankiba headcanons filling up my brain space (and literally the idea for this entire chapter sksksks)  
> (headcanon notes and stuff r at the end if you wanna geek out/are curious)

When they pull away, Kankuro is bright red, from the bridge across his hooked nose to the tips of his ears. It makes Kiba laugh earnestly, grinning widely as he looks back at him. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Kiba speaks first. He moves back. He wants more than anything to let his hands move up to Kankuro’s chest, or let them linger around his neck while he kisses him again, but he knows it’s unwise to do so in the middle of the street. As much as he doesn’t want their relationship to be political, it is. 

“We always were,” Kankuro admits. It’s the first time Kiba has seen him shy or nervous. He won’t pick on it, but it’s charming. “You’re… important to me. Really important.”

Kankuro speaks slowly, carefully. Kiba lets him. 

“...and I don’t want my issues, or whatever, getting in the way of that. Cause- how I feel about myself doesn’t change the way I feel about you. And the way I feel about you…” Kankuro’s voice trails off again, another timid smile coming to his lips. He can’t quite make eye contact with Kiba. “You make me happy, that’s all.”

Despite whatever restraint he’d been practicing a few minutes ago, Kiba can’t help the way he wraps his arms around Kankuro next. He winds them around Kankuro’s middle, head resting against his chest, feeling the quick patter of his heartbeat through his shirt. Just for a few seconds, he wants this.

The gentle smile on his face grows when Kankuro’s arms find a place around him as well, heavy and safe over his shoulders. Sometimes this just works better, for two people who aren’t very good at talking. 

“I’ll see you after today’s meetings, okay?” Kankuro hums, his head momentarily resting atop Kiba’s. 

“Mhmm.” Kiba still hasn’t let go, even if he probably should before someone sees them.

“Okay,” Kankuro laughs lightly, “that means I actually have to go.”

Kiba gives him one more  _ squeeze,  _ smiling up at him when he eventually pulls away. “Alright. Okay. Go to work.”

~

Kankuro is unusually smiley on his way to the morning meetings, glowing in a way that no one can quite put their finger on (except Temari, who rolls her eyes at him even if she is undeniably happy for him.) It’s probably better that Gaara isn’t here to rapid-fire awkward questions as he normally would. 

He can barely concentrate on the topic of his work, has chunin exams jargon rattling around in his brain for two hours that he never quite processes. Kiba occupies a lot of his mind without even trying. It’s infuriating and endearing at the same time. 

If Kankuro is excited to see Kiba later, he plays it cool and doesn’t show it. When he stops by Kiba’s house later that day, all he says is, “Hi,” even though his brain is screaming with things like  _ I missed you and it’s only been a few hours,  _ or  _ I’m so happy to see you  _ or  _ I’ve been thinking about you all day. _

“Slight change of plans,” Kiba says when he comes outside, briefly linking their hands in a gesture of “hello,” smiling over at Kankuro.

“Hmm?” Kankuro squeezes Kiba’s hand in response. “Change of plans how?”

“You can say no,” Kiba prefaces, “if that- if that makes you feel weird or anything. My sister’s guy friend? Boyfriend? Dude she’s been talking to? Is coming over again tonight. Right?”

“Right?” Kankuro asks, the question mark lingering in the air between them. 

“So…” Kiba looks back at his house, then at Kankuro, then at the house again. “I kinda sorta have a question.”

“What?”

“My, uh…” Kiba laughs a little, a hand on the back of his neck. “We got to talking, and my mom was all… interested, and… she said she wants to meet you, too. And--”

“Okay.” Kankuro shrugs. This concept is immensely foreign to him, as he rarely thinks about bringing people home to anyone, let alone his parents, but. This is a normal thing to do. 

Aside from the fact that Kiba comes from a line of stubborn women and dogs, he’s stunned at Kankuro’s sudden ability to be so domestic. “Huh?”

“I just said ‘okay.’ Were you expecting me to say no?”

“No, no, it’s just that... you don’t know my mom,” Kiba says, shaking his head. “She’s…” he pauses in thought, trying to come up with something fitting. “ _ Intense. _ ”

“My brother used to be a sociopath. Intensity is fine with me.”

“She just- she’s cool, ya know? But she’s really hard on me,” Kiba attempts to explain. “And she’s never liked anybody that my sister has brought home. Ever. She scares them away.” He says this next part quickly, as if he can skate over it. “I just don’t want you to be offended or anything--”

“Who says I’m like some dude your sister brings home?” Kankuro grins, mostly to reassure Kiba. Kankuro can put on a brave face like it’s nobody’s business, but truthfully, he’s nervous. “It’s just dinner. No big deal.”

Kiba rubs his hands over his face, shaking his head. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” 

The house is small and cozy, with the smell of dinner coming from the kitchen, but Kankuro only steps so much as a foot inside before there’s a large black dog stopping him in his tracks. He’s much bigger than Akamaru, presumably older, and looks much meaner, with an eyepatch covering his right eye. Kankuro isn’t typically intimidated by animals, but this guy doesn’t seem like one to piss off. 

“That’s Kuromaru,” Kiba says, in an attempt to break Kuromaru’s staredown.

_ Can I not introduce myself? _ A deep voice rumbles in Kankuro’s mind, and he realizes it’s coming from the  _ dog.  _

“He talks?!”

“Just him,” clarifies Kiba, “my mom has a contract with him.”

_ Sand shinobi are always so behind on the times,  _ tuts Kuromaru as he continues

To sniff at Kankuro’s clothes. Kankuro supposes all he can do is let him, instead of rudely asking “what the hell is that supposed to mean” while his eyes are still blown wide with surprise. He should have known better. Surely Kiba’s house would have talking dogs. And surely they would try and insult him.

For a moment, Kuromaru shifts to sniff Kankuro’s side, but is interrupted by  _ three more dogs  _ barreling towards him. Two are barking, and one is eyeing him rather suspiciously. The only thing Kankuro can do is stand still. 

“Where did they all just run off to--” a woman comes into view that Kankuro recognizes as Kiba’s sister, her eyes widening when she looks at him. “So this is--?”

Kiba cuts in, “this is Kankuro. Kankuro, this is my sister, Hana.”

“Good to meet ya,” Kankuro raises his hand in a little wave. He’s scared to move since Kuromaru hasn’t left him alone yet, but this changes when Akamaru comes bounding in, barking happily.

Insistently, Akamaru nudges his head at Kankuro’s hand until he receives some well-deserved scratches behind his ear. Kuromaru looks up at Kankuro like he wants to bare his teeth, but then reconsiders it. He stalks off to the kitchen, and the younger ones understand that he’s passed. 

Hana is bewildered, looking between her brother and Kankuro. “Is that the first time he’s been over here?”

“Uh huh,” Kiba says, puffing out his chest, grinning widely. 

“I don’t get it,” Kankuro says. “What’s so freaky?”

“Nothing,” Hana huffs, crossing her arms. 

“All of the dogs like you. That’s never happened to one of the guys Hana brings home.” Kiba pretends to whisper, but he talks loudly behind his hand to tease.

“Shut up!” 

“Stop bickering, you’re adults,” drawls a voice from the kitchen, growing closer. Kankuro assumes this is Kiba’s mother, but is certainly convinced of this when she comes into the front room. She looks exactly like him- there’s no doubt here. The dog with the eyepatch follows her, and Kankuro comes to the understanding that he’s her companion. It makes sense. They’re the most intimidating people in the house. 

“Mom, this is--”

“Can’t a man introduce himself? He doesn’t need you to do it for him,” Tsume scolds. No wonder she and Kuromaru are partners. 

“Kankuro,” Kankuro says simply, holding out his hand. When Tsume shakes it, he realizes her hand could probably break his bones. Her nails are long, fingers thin and wiry like Kiba’s, rough from years of military training. 

“The Kazekage’s brother?”

“I am.”

“The puppet user.”

“You know it.”

“Kiba said you’re a Jonin?”

“Yes.”

Tsume looks at him skeptically, up and down. “Really?”

“Kankuro was promoted to Jonin when he was sixteen,” Kiba pipes up.

Tsume narrows her eyes. “Yeah? Then what’s your excuse? How old are you now? Lazy--”

“Aren’t we talking about Kankuro? We’re talking about Kankuro,” Kiba huffs, crossing his arms.

Kankuro doesn’t know it, but this is the longest Tsume’s ever talked with a potential significant other. Usually, unless the dogs like them, Tsume won’t even step out and meet them. So, Tsume shifts her questions back to Kankuro. “Did you actually take the Jonin exam? Or did they promote you because you’re the Kazekage’s brother?” 

“I took it  _ and  _ passed in the top three.”

“Yeah? Good on you,” Tsume pats his shoulder heartily. Kankuro notices Hana and Kiba’s jaws equally dropped at this gesture, but he doesn’t understand why. “I remember you,” she continues, and maybe with that, her openness makes more sense.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Didn’t you notice the way Akamaru did, too?” Tsume says, “You saved my son’s life after Tsunade sent them after that stupid Uchiha boy.”

It takes Kankuro a moment to recall what she’s talking about, but she’s no doubt referring to how the Sand had backed up the Leaf all those years ago while running after Sasuke. 

“Dogs don’t forget,” Tsume continues, “and neither do mothers! Anyways, sit, all of you. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Mom, Shiro isn’t here yet,” Hana reminds, and Tsume’s expression is blank. 

“Who?” While Tsume leans against the kitchen counter and cracks open a beer, Kankuro decides that she might be one of the coolest people he’s ever met. 

“My boyfriend,” Hana huffs. 

“Again, Hana? That Cipher core guy? You’re too pretty for him,” Tsume grunts. 

“Yes, again, you promised you’d talk to him this time. He’s very sweet, and I like him a lot--”

“I guess I can make another plate. Kankuro, do you drink beer?” Tsume asks, shifting the focus back to him, and Kankuro doesn’t know how to respond. He thinks it’s a trick question, but he’d rather be considered ungraceful than a liar. 

“Uh huh.”

“I like an honest man,” Tsume says, taking a sip of her beer. “I knew the answer already, but I wanted to see if you’d tell the truth to my face.”

“How’d you know?” Kankuro asks. He’d been right about the trick question, apparently. 

“No shinobi with a gut like that is sober,” Tsume says breezily, walking past Kankuro and patting his stomach. “Hana, when is your friend coming?”

Kankuro blanches, his hand going to the same spot rather absentmindedly. He knows he’s put on a few pounds in the last month or two, but is it noticeable? His shoulders sag with the realization that the abs are always the first to go. Consequently, he decides he’ll join Kiba on his run tomorrow. In the back of his mind, Kankuro swears he hears Kuromaru laugh. 

“He’s not my friend, we’ve been dating for three months, and he should be here any minute now--”

“Whatever. Go set the table.”

Tsume moves with the no-nonsense manner of a soldier and the comedic timing of a pleasant person. She’s as brash and funny as Kiba, quick with words and even quicker with her actions that accompany them.

As they move to the table, Kankuro pretends to be unaware of Kuromaru trailing behind him. The dynamic in this house is interesting: the dogs have just as much sway as any of the humans. As if to keep an eye on him, Kuromaru sits next to Kankuro’s chair, sneaking a glance at him every now and then. 

However, Kuromaru’s investigation is cut short when Hana’s boyfriend walks through the door, and immediately, the dogs are onto him, though this time they’re barking and snarling. 

“You see how he just drives them crazy? I don’t like him,” Tsume says plainly, sitting across from Kankuro and Kiba while Hana goes to greet her boyfriend. “He’s also got these funny little glasses. Looks like a dork.”

“Mom, cut it out,” Kiba pleads, “you’ll scare him off.”

“Would that be so bad?” 

When Hana and her boyfriend Shiro come to the table, Kuromaru seems to forget all about Kankuro. Instead, he positions himself right behind Shiro’s chair to watch his every move. 

It’s only when Shiro sits down and joins them that Kankuro understands everything Kiba said about his mother. In a matter of about four minutes, Tsume calls him weak, short, and “funny looking.” Hana is irritably picking at her meal after another dig about Shiro not eating meat (which seems to be sacrilege in the Inuzuka household.) 

“Kankuro, stop feeding the dogs, they like you enough without it,” Tsume interrupts, to which Kankuro laughs sheepishly. 

Now, Kankuro feels comfortable enough to actually have a conversation. “So, like… did you guys raise all these dogs?” Kankuro asks, is still laughing while he asks because one of the triplets is licking his elbow. “I know Kiba said the clan started with wolves, but Kuromaru’s the only one who looks… wolfy. And why is he the only one that can talk?”

“This one actually knows our clan’s history?” Tsume marvels over at Kiba. 

“I taught him some stuff,” seconds Kiba. 

Tsume brightens at the opportunity to  _ teach this kid something.  _ “Mm. Okay. Well, you’re half right. Our clan’s descendants had wolf companions- that’s the origin of our markings-” she points to her cheeks, “but it later evolved to dogs. Kuromaru is the oldest, his ancestors are actually Inuzuka wolves. He and I have a bonding contract and he’s technically not from this world. That’s why he speaks. Think of it as the toads from Mount Myobuku,” she says. 

_ Don’t compare me to a toad,  _ interrupts Kuromaru, and Tsume lets out a hearty laugh. “He’s a hell of a lot better than a toad. He helped train Kiba and Hana. He practically raised them, too.”

“He just looks grumpy all the time,” teases Hana. “The triplets are mine. Akamaru is obviously Kiba’s. Those dogs we raised on our own. We have more in the yard, too.”

“There aren’t a lot of ninken users where you’re from,” Tsume comments to Kankuro, who shakes his head. 

“I only saw it when I came here,” he notes. 

“It’s fairly localized to the Land of Fire,” explains Tsume, “but I’m sure you’re aware of basic regional combat styles because you’ve actually seen action. This guy, on the other hand,” she points to Shiro, “sticks his nose in a book all day.”

“Which is just as useful!” Hana argues. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t!” Tsume barks in return. 

However, her attitude swivels whenever her attention shifts to Kankuro, so much that it becomes comical. Perhaps it’s because she finds him incredibly well spoken for a guy who plays with dolls for fun, or surprisingly intelligent when he talks about battle and strategy. It could be that she’s impressed with his ranking, or that she thinks his jokes are funny. Maybe it’s the woman in her thinking about how this boy has never had a mother, and that’s why she fixes him another plate. But when she looks over at her  _ Kiba, _ who’s glowing with pride and awe and so much happiness that he could burst, It might come down to the fact that she  _ just likes him. _

“My brother’s like that. That dude can read and read and  _ read, _ ” Kankuro says, to Shiro of all people. “So you’re probably crazy smart, right?”

Shiro preens at finally being talked to with respect, as he and Kankuro launch into their own side conversation about books and cipher technology, with Kankuro rambling about how he hates to read and has never been very good at it. 

In the midst of this, Hana stands to collect some empty plates and move pots over to the kitchen. “Kiba, come help,” she urges, and Kiba grumbles, but stands to clear the table as well. 

“You know,” she says once they’re in the kitchen, “I want to hate him, I really do… and I don’t,” she laughs. 

“Who?” Kiba asks. 

Hana rubs a hand over her face. “Kankuro, stupid. Who else?”

“Oh.  _ Oh,” _ Kiba laughs cheerily. “Yeah. I love him a whole lot,” he grins, so much so that he doesn’t notice he’s been drying a plate for three straight minutes, just staring off into space. 

“Kuro  _ and  _ mom like him. Do you realize that?” Hana asks. 

“I told ya. He’s a helluva guy.”

From the dining room, they hear a  _ bang _ against wood, the rattle of silverware, and a loud shout from Tsume. Tsume has just beaten Kankuro in an arm wrestle, and in fact, he thinks he might have pulled a muscle in his forearm. 

“That’s no fair! You’re doing that beast stuff--” he protests.

“I’m not doing shit! That’s what happens when you only train long range!”

“I don’t only train long range!”

“Oh, yeah? Prove it!” 

“Please go out there before they spar,” Hana shakes her head, nudging Kiba out of the kitchen. 

“When I brought him over I thought he’d be spending time with  _ me, _ ” grumbles Kiba, shaking his head.

“Sounds like mom has a new drinking buddy.”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Kiba warns.

Hana just laughs. “Better hurry. I think I hear them getting up.”

“Don’t mess up my boyfriend, please,” says Kiba when he comes back into the dining room. The world rolls off his tongue so easily as he wraps a playful arm around Tsume’s neck, so easy that he doesn’t realize he’s never used it before. He’s more focused on pulling Tsume back, though, because he can definitely see them sparring if he doesn’t. 

“Better watch out. You’re next,” Tsume teases. “Kankuro. You know when Kiba was little, he lost to Kuromaru all the time? And now he thinks he’s bigger and better or something?” Her tone is lighthearted, different than the one she uses to berate poor Shiro or yell at an enemy. 

“Mom,” Kiba whines, “stop.”

“I dunno. I’d say he’s earned it. When I trained with him the other day it took a lot out of me,” Kankuro admits, leaning back comfortably in his chair. 

“That’s my boy,” Tsume beams. She leans down to kiss him on the cheek, lipstick smearing on the side of Kiba’s face while he squirms boyishly. Talking over his protests of “mom” and “cut it out,” she says, “Go on and let all the dogs out. You can take Kankuro with you. Don’t worry about the rest of the table.”

Kiba, who has spent his entire life with a long list of chores, is happy to take the break. 

“There’s more dogs?” Kankuro asks, while Kiba is coming up to take his hand and pull him up.

“Look where you are. There’s always more dogs,” says Kiba, tugging Kankuro out of his chair. 

“Thank you for the food,” Kankuro adds, rather quickly because Kiba is pulling him to go outside.

With a brusque “you’re very welcome,” Tsume watches her son holding someone’s hand, smiling so wide his teeth show, laughing the same obnoxious laugh that he got from her. 

_ When did he get so big?  _ Kuromaru asks, coming up to stand next to her. 

“I don’t know,” Tsume smiles quietly, shaking her head. “I still see him like he’s this tall.” She says, putting her hand at the side of her hip. 

~

Outside, the Inuzukas have a large yard fit with a fence, as well as a comfortable back porch. There’s a big dog house a little to the left for the colder months, but for the most part, it looks like the dogs spend much of their time outside and thoroughly enjoy it. There’s about ten of them that Kankuro can see, all scattered about whether they’re playing together or enjoying the evening sun.

“I think this is the most dogs I’ve ever seen in a day,” says Kankuro, as he takes a seat on the porch next to Kiba, just both of them on the wood floor of it, looking out at the dogs resting in the grass. 

“That’s what you get with me,” laughs Kiba. Akamaru lays next to Kankuro, placing his head on Kankuro’s lap, and Kiba’s eyes soften. “They’re all my family, y’know?”

“Right,” Kankuro nods, as his hand goes to scratch behind Akamaru’s ears the way he likes. A sudden weight on his shoulder turns out to be Kiba leaning onto him, head tilted against Kankuro’s neck. “Was your dad a ninken user, too?” He asks curiously. He knew it wasn’t appropriate to bring up during dinner, but he’s awfully curious about Kiba’s father. He doesn’t mention him very often.

“Yeah. Apparently he was pretty good, too,” Kiba says. “I don’t know too much about him, though.”

**_KONOHAGAKURE, 18 YEARS AGO_ **

_ “Kuro-san,” says Kiba, as they walk home from the Academy on a blistering summer day, “why doesn’t my mom ever pick me up from Academy?” _

_ Kiba is barely five years old, about the same height as the midnight-blue dog that walks him to and from school every day. Hana is apparently all grown up, at seven and a half, and has resorted to walking with her friends.  _

_ “Your mother has missions,” answers Kuromaru, “and she gets very busy. So I do it.” _

_ “What about my dad?” Kiba asks, a little more hesitant, now.  _

_ Without skipping a beat, Kuromaru says, “He has missions too.” _

_ “Do you think he’ll be coming home to meet me soon?” Kiba asks.  _

_ “I’m not sure,” Kuromaru replies. He’ll leave out that the last time he had seen Kiba’s father, right before he left, Tsume had threatened him not to step foot near the kids. They didn’t deserve to suffer the awkward yearly meetings with an inconsistent father who didn’t love them, or to watch how broken their family really was, no matter how hard she tried to hold it together.  _

_ “Was he a strong shinobi?” Kiba asks, a childish grin spreading across his face, magic in his eyes. “Did he have a dog?” _

_ “He had two,” answers Kuromaru honestly. “He was strong, but I think you could be much stronger.” _

_ “Really?!” _

_ “Really. That’s why you have to train hard.” _

_ “I will! And then when I get a dog of my own, we’ll be like you and mom! Or- or better! Yeah, better!” Kiba declares, clapping his hands.  _

_ “I sure hope so,” Kuromaru answers. “You’ll be a genin soon. Study hard so you’ll be at the top of your class.” _

_ “I will!” Kiba says again, louder this time. “Kuro-san, Kuro-san! Will you come to the graduation ceremony next month? When I get my headband?” _

_ “Of course. We’ll all be there.” _

_ “You think dad will make it?” _

_ “Don’t worry about that right now. Worry about graduating, huh?” _

“Kuromaru said he was. I asked him a couple times,” Kiba continues. “But then if you ask my mom, she gets real mad, and says he’s a big loser.”

“I can hear that in her voice.”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t really care as much now that I’m older. I have the most kick-ass mom ever. If my dad wants to go be a loser, he can. He’s missing out,” Kiba says confidently, and Kankuro nods, his arm wrapping around Kiba’s shoulders. 

“You’re right. Your mom did a damn good job.” Kankuro has always been indifferent about his parents, having had little to no relationship with them. His voice is wistful, almost jealous. 

“When I’m a dad, I’m not doing any of that shit. My kid is gonna have two parents, and lots of food on the table, and… and a dog, and a big yard to run around in…” Kiba’s voice trails off. 

“Yeah? Is that something you think about?” Kankuro laughs lightly, fondly. Kids gross him out. They’re loud and weird and bite people too much without asking- much like dogs, but extraordinarily less cute. 

“I dunno. Sometimes,” Kiba shrugs. “But then when I really think about it? You know what I want?” 

“What’s that?”

“Maybe I won’t even have kids. Sometimes I think that all I really want are a lot of dogs,” Kiba thinks out loud. He hesitates for a moment, nearly doesn’t ask, but decides to throw the question to Kankuro anyways. “What about you? Do you ever think about that?”

Kankuro hums thoughtfully, his hand lightly grazing the outside of Kiba’s shoulder. “Me? I dunno. Before I met you, I didn’t ever even think stuff like that was an option,” he says honestly. “I always assumed I’d be an uncle… and that I’d live by myself, and do S-ranks when I got bored. But now…”

Kiba’s smiling, eyes closed contentedly where he sits against Kankuro. 

Kankuro kisses the top of his head, “...Now I think I could probably have a couple dogs.”

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hello to me at @shadowstrangle on tumblr!!! 
> 
> 1\. A lot of stuff in this comes from Inuzuka headcanons that I see floating around tumblr but I definitely like the ones that talk about how Tsume is a descendant of OG Inuzukas, like. She's real shit. And Kiba's dad is just some fuckin' loser who couldn't stick around.  
> 2\. Kuromaru (Tsume's dog) had a large role in Kiba and Hana's upbringing. He's canonically able to speak, so I kept that, but he's Tsume's companion in the sense that she has a contract with him. Technically, he was always supposed to go back to his "original world," but upon Kiba and Hana's dad leaving, he stayed to help Tsume and raise the kids. That's why he's generally so overprotective of Kiba & Hana and the other dogs.  
> 3\. Shiro I guess is an OC??? hksfhksjfhkjshf just needed someone to foil the fact that Tsume fucking LOVES Kankuro but tends to dislike anyone else the kids have brought home (especially Hana.) That's not because she favors Kiba, but rather because she holds Hana to such a high regard and believes no one is good enough for her.  
> 4\. for those of u who are here bc of ACEFAD I am starting to work on the sequel and yall are NOT ready


	12. Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2:40 AM and I barely proofread this after coming home a little crossed so I apologize for any inconsistencies or mistakes but I really wanted to post this shit  
> Buckle up!

**KONOHAGAKURE (3 WEEKS AGO)**

_“Are you in love?”_ _Gaara asks, as blandly as one would ask about the time or the weather, and Kankuro rolls his eyes, ignoring the pull in his chest. Truly? He’s never thought about it._

_ “It’s eight in the morning, kid.” _

_ “I wasn’t asking about the time. I was asking if you were in love.” _

_ “Yeah, well. Ask me something else.” Ask him something else, while he still feels the hot press of Kiba’s skin against his in the morning. Ask him something else, while he thinks about Kiba sitting on his lap that morning, half asleep and kissing his neck. God, please, ask him something else, while he stops to remember how Kiba woke him right up before they’d even gotten out of bed this morning.  _

_ “Okay,” Gaara says thoughtfully. “What’s it like kissing a man?” _

_ “We’re done here,” Kankuro shakes his head, “and keep your creepy voice down, huh? The last thing I need is for someone to hear us.” _

In the weeks after Gaara returns from his Suna sabbatical, the Konoha summer continues with the sun washing over and drowning them in humid heat, days starting to blend together. The Chunin exams are slowly drawing to a close no matter how comfortable Kankuro gets here, and their return date looms over everything he does. 

In the meantime, with the weather Kiba finds himself having to shift his training schedule to run early in the morning, because the heat is too blistering at any other time. Kankuro predictably does not join him on these, citing that  _ I only run over five miles if I’m crossing villages or I’m being chased.  _

Coincidentally this morning Kiba is near the gates of the village after having finished his run, hands over his head to catch his breath as he walks. Distantly, he can hear chatter at the lookout post from Izumo and Kotetsu, something about how Gaara and Sakura returned this past week, _ that’s right, they did leave for a few days _ . The further he goes through the village, the more intense the sensation becomes that he’s either being watched or followed. 

It honestly happens by chance. Back home, Gaara takes walks at all hours of the night and early morning, simply to have something to do when insomnia roars especially loud in his ears. It’s nearly half past six and the village is awfully peaceful, with citizens up and just starting their day. This morning Gaara had decided to take advantage of the quiet, and spare Sakura another early start. 

Closer to the center of the village Gaara senses animalistic chakra- presumably that of ninken, who are fairly common in Konoha. He’s not really one for confrontation, but suddenly feels the need to call out to Kiba when he sees him walking with Akamaru. Surely this is what Kankuro would do, right? Look out for him?

“Kiba.”

The hairs on the back of Kiba’s neck stand right up when he feels an eerie chakra come into his sensory field, immediately whipping around. Kiba’s eyes widen when he turns and realizes from nearly twenty feet away that it’s Gaara calling out to him, and he’s all by himself. “Are you talkin’ to me?” A growl rumbles in Akamaru’s throat. It seems he hasn’t forgotten Gaara.

“Is there anyone else named Kiba in the vicinity?”

Kiba bristles, but doesn’t say anything. He has mixed opinions here- he of course feels the need to bond with Kankuro’s brother- but he genuinely has no idea if he can. “What can I- uh, what can I do for you?”

Gaara takes his time to catch up to Kiba. He notices the way Akamaru switches to Kiba’s other side to avoid him, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no use. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Kiba says, rather uncomfortably. His hands shift to his pockets as they walk.  Kiba has so many questions. Why is Gaara following him at 6:30 in the morning? Why is he by himself? Why is he so quiet about it that even Kiba could hardly hear him? He remembers Kankuro talking about how Gaara does this all the time. _He’s just like that._

“I just saw you. I wasn’t tracking you,” Gaara explains, to save face as Kiba stops for him to catch up. Akamaru looks as if he’ll bare his teeth, and Kiba motions for him to cut it out. 

“It’s cool. I didn’t think you were.” Kiba’s lying through his teeth, and Gaara can tell just by the spike in his chakra. “Whadja need?”

“I wanted to speak with you,” Gaara says. 

Kiba doesn’t know if he’s ever been this close to Gaara in such a casual setting. For someone so put together, he looks a mess. The circles under his eyes are dark with heavy exhaustion. 

“O-kay,” Kiba says slowly. Oh, this is weird and terrifying and  _ awkward,  _ so unbelievably awkward, but he’ll do it for Kankuro. He’d do just about anything. “What’s up?”

“First,” Gaara says, “I wanted to… properly get a chance to get to know you. Our family is close. Not that I… partake, but we should get a drink sometime, shouldn’t we?”

Kiba blinks at him, rather taken aback. Drinks with his boyfriend’s intimidating brother are the last thing he wants, but Kiba’s too nice, and he’s touched that Gaara is making an effort. As awkward as he is, Gaara is someone that Kiba would describe as  _ inexplicably cool.  _ “I heard ya _ do _ drink. That’s how you and Sakura got together, wasn’t it?” Kiba laughs richly, adjusting his headband. 

Gaara is stiff and  _ never laughs at a joke unless it’s his own,  _ Kiba recalls Kankuro telling him. He’s not surprised. Kiba clears his throat to change the subject. “But, yeah. Yeah, we should get a few sometime. Doesn’t even have to be drinks, you know. If you’re- you know. Sober and all. We can just hang out.”

Gaara hums in agreement, a look of accomplishment flashing across his face. He nods to himself.  _ Just hanging out. _ Another social checkmark for the day. “Do you drink with my brother?” He asks curiously. 

“I mean,” Kiba shrugs, “sometimes. We go out.”

“Has he been honest in telling you he has a drinking problem?” Gaara says, like a doting mother. 

“He- what?” Kiba’s eyebrows furrow. In all of the occasions he’s had a drink with Kankuro, it’s been just fine. “He.. hasn’t mentioned it. And I haven’t seen it.”

Gaara realizes that he might have accidentally stumbled into something he can’t pull himself out of. “Oh,” he says stupidly, awkwardly. “He gets out of control at home. We’ve been watching him, but he’s usually with you…” Gaara’s voice trails off.

Kiba makes a note to have a genuine conversation with Kankuro later. Undoubtedly they’ll be unpacking this entire conversation. “He’s super hard to read, your brother,” Kiba admits. “I dunno if he’d even tell me something like that. I’m not surprised if he hasn’t.”

“I wouldn’t say he is hard to read,” Gaara says, “he is just a private person.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Kiba agrees. 

They walk silently for a few minutes. Akamaru’s fur has finally started to lay back down. 

“Are you in love with Kankuro?” Gaara pipes up.

“Huh?” Kiba’s cheeks turn redder than they’ve already been painted.

“I’ve been thinking about a lot since I’ve been home. Do you know that in our village, it’s illegal to love him?”

“He- we talked about it a little, I- that’s messed up, aren’t you the Kazekage? Can’t you--”

“I didn’t say it was right. I’m just stating the obvious. I want to put it in perspective that he’s risking his entire life for you,” Gaara says quietly, thoughtfully. “So I just wanted to know if you love him.”

Kiba’s uncomfortable, and Gaara is  _ weird,  _ and he doesn’t know what to say. “What? You don’t like me, or something?”

“I never said anything like that. I’m genuinely curious,” Gaara says, crossing his arms over his chest naturally as he walks. 

“I think your brother’s amazing,” Kiba confesses finally, hands in his pockets as he walks next to Gaara, a careful foot-long gap between them. “He loves me. And I love him. That’s kinda it.”

“That’s all I wanted to know,” Gaara murmurs, inhaling a heavy puff of Konoha hair, thick with hanging rain and wet heat. It seems the Leaf air never really fills his lungs. “The council already thinks incredibly poorly of me. Kankuro doesn’t have the cleanest track record either.”

“So?”  _ Does this guy ever get to the point? Or does he just ask weird questions? _

“Just be careful. That’s all. I like that Kankuro is happy, but I also don’t want him dead,” Gaara says tentatively. Of course, he doesn’t quite know what the penalty would be nowadays in Suna, especially considering Kankuro’s political stature, but he doesn’t want to find out. And when he does, there will definitely be some changes made.

“I mean, nobody would actually do anything here, right? Not when you’ve got all the ANBU following you guys,” Kiba shakes his head. Akamaru gives a grunt of agreement.

But Gaara stops walking like the ground has fallen from his feet, suddenly frozen. “What did you just say?”

“...the ANBU? Don’t all Kages and their entourage travel with ANBU?” Kiba asks, frowning.

“The Sand doesn’t,” Gaara says, and Kiba’s eyes widen.

“But they’re Sand guys,” Kiba says, still confused. He sniffs the air. “And some Leaf guys too, but they’ve been following you guys for weeks. I could smell them- I thought you  _ knew. _ ”

“I need you to tell me exactly where every single ANBU is positioned,” Gaara says mechanically. 

“But--”

_ “Right now.” _

~~~~

“Gaara’s late again,” Kankuro grunts as he and Temari climb the stairs to the Hokage’s tower that morning, late as usual because they’d waited for Gaara but he never showed. Apparently Gaara thinks that he invented time, as he often does. Schedules or appointments mean next to nothing to him. 

“What else is new?” Temari sighs, “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” It’s not at all rare for meetings to start late because of Gaara. They’ll wait for him, and Gaara knows it. There are three empty chairs that are set out for them, and Kankuro decides on the chair at the edge of the table with Temari on his left. He doesn’t feel like sitting by Gaara and having everyone stare at him. Kankuro likes to remain quiet at these meetings, anyway. Perhaps with the Suna council he has some sway, but here he feels like a fish out of water. He has next to no political influence at this table. 

When Gaara walks in, heads turn, and a conversation suddenly stops. An attendant finishes scrawling notes and moves to the window to send a hawk.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Lord Fifth,” calls out Koharu, the old bat Leaf elder Kankuro wishes would croak already, to which Gaara quips, “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Your father was the same way,” Koharu comments, and Gaara stares ahead at her so blankly she looks like she regrets saying anything at all. She adds, “He was a smart man, but frequently late!”

“I often don’t compare myself to my father,” Gaara says as he takes his seat. “Shall we begin?”

“We haven’t begun discussing the exams yet. This morning Koharu-san requested a focus on inter-village relations- specifically with the Sand,” says Tsunade, side-eyeing Koharu, “but I don’t understand why this has any importance.”

“You’re not interested in discussing his relationship with your top student, Tsunade-sama?” Koharu asks, motioning to Gaara. “Or the other intel we’ve received?”

“I don’t meddle in Sakura’s personal life,” drawls Tsunade. “Or his, for that matter. And I don’t know where you’d be receiving intel from.”

“We’ve been receiving hawks about--”

“I don’t give a damn what you’re receiving hawks about. This meeting is for the next phase of the exams, not the Kazekage’s sexual preferences.”

Gaara’s eyes widen in what would probably be the largest facial giveaway of embarrassment, and Kankuro doesn’t realize his own jaw has dropped until he closes it. 

“You don’t understand that this could potentially lead to infiltration? Or war? Tsunade-sama, don’t be daft. Don’t you realize what they’re doing?” Koharu asks. 

Kankuro winces when Tsunade’s hands slam down on the table. It makes everyone jump. “Just what the hell are you going on about?! There will be no such thing. We’ve been allies with the Sand for years!”

“I’m talking about three high-profile shinobi from Suna suddenly being romantically involved with three of  _ yours. _ We’ve received this intel from Sand  _ and _ Leaf ANBU, and now that the Kazekage has returned, there needs to be a discussion.”

Kankuro’s heart stops in his chest. Suddenly, he can’t hear Tsunade yelling or Koharu babbling about ancient politics and coups. All he knows is that Koharu said  _ three,  _ and  _ someone knows,  _ and if someone knows, that means everyone knows, and if everyone knows--

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean by three,” Gaara interrupts. “Only Temari and I are romantically involved with anyone.”

There’s silence so thick that it seems like everyone’s stopped breathing. Koharu’s eyes are practically daggers when she looks back at him. “Impudent child,” she scoffs, and then looks over at Kankuro. “Shouldn’t you be asking your brother what he does when it gets dark?”

Under the table, Temari’s hand clutches the top of Kankuro’s.

“ _ That is enough!”  _ Tsunade yells. She’ll of course have her own meeting about this outburst later, but there’s a clear division in the room now: those who have sat in these meeting chairs for longer, and those who have just started. “These are our  _ allies.  _ I won’t have this. This is not how I run a village.” She stands, turning to Kankuro, Temari, and Gaara in a deep bow, “Forgive our elders.”

Gaara is slick and professional as always, returns a curt nod, but his eyes speak volumes as they scan the room. Temari’s jaw is stiff, and she does the same. She has the same stroke of nobility Gaara has, the kind that would’ve allowed her to be Kazekage if she’d wanted the job. As different as they are, their minds are racing with the same thoughts. Were they not the strong allies they thought they were? Have they been followed during their entire stay? Was it one of them, or all of them? 

With the limited information he’s just learned, Gaara’s brain is moving so fast he can no longer pay attention to the conversation. He has to do something,  _ anything;  _ he is the only one in the room that won’t let his heart come before his head. It’s his responsibility. 

“The ANBU presence from the Leaf stops at once,” Gaara says, piercing the silence of the room. “Or else I will be filing a motion of espionage.”

“You’ll be doing no such thing. You don’t have clearance to do so on Leaf village territory,” says the second elder, the man whose name Gaara can never remember, who smokes a rancid pipe. 

“Then any copies of all information gathered will not be shared with the Sand’s council,” Temari interjects. 

“We were under the impression that the Sand’s council was in agreement of our basic security measures,” says the man-  _ Homura, _ now Gaara remembers.

“How poor of you to assume anything without consulting the Kazekage,” says Temari icily. Maybe Gaara is more inclined for politics after all. 

“Or the  _ Hokage?!  _ What’s the meaning of this?” Tsunade’s voice raises and the table shakes consequently. Her eyes haven’t moved from Danzo, who has been sitting quietly through the entire ordeal.

On Temari’s other side, Kankuro doesn’t see Temari and he doesn’t hear Gaara. He hasn’t been able to speak for the last few minutes, is paralyzed with fear. If he could feel anything at all, he would recognize the burning red of his cheeks, the way his hands are shaking under the table, or how his back is suddenly so straight it resembles a rigid board. His legs shake when he finally stands, and the chair is loud against the wooden floor when he pushes it out. 

“Kankuro,” Temari grabs his arm, looking up at him pleadingly. 

It looks like everyone is expecting him to say something, wide eyes trained on him. The elders seem like they want him to apologize, with Shimura Danzo scoffing at his presence. Kankuro doesn’t let his eyes meet anyone else’s as he turns and walks right out of the meeting. 

The room is quiet until Temari’s chair scrapes the wood as well. She places an urgent hand on Gaara’s shoulder that says  _ stay,  _ and follows her brother out. Behind her, she closes the door harder than she should. 

The frightening thing about this entire situation is how quickly Kankuro had gone. It takes Temari an agonizing few minutes to run through the building- one that she already isn’t familiar with- in pursuit of her brother. He turns out to be right outside, breathing so hard that he’s leaning against the wall for support.

“They know,” is all he says.

“Kankuro, you saw how Tsunade reacted. She won’t let anything happen--”

“Are you  _ stupid?!”  _ Kankuro yells, finally turning to look at her. “Are you that fucking dense?!”

“Don’t  _ talk to me like that--” _

“Then don’t act like you know anything about what’s going on! Do you realize the bigger picture of all this? You don’t think they just sent a hawk now that they have intel? And proof?” Kankuro snaps. “Do you fuckin’ realize I’ll be arrested when we get back? Is that coming together in your head?”

“It wasn’t on village lines,” Temari says frantically. “Everything happened here.”

“Do you think they care?!”

“They might! And- Kankuro, god, haven’t you stopped to think about the fact that Gaara would never let that happen?” Temari argues. 

“Gaara can’t sway the entire council.”

“Gaara doesn’t  _ need  _ the council!”

“They already know,” says Gaara from down the hall, having exited the meeting room. His footsteps echo as he approaches them.

Kankuro’s back sinks into the wall as he slides down against it, his breath heavy behind both of his hands. “What?”

“There’s no way that they-- what are you talking about, Gaara?” Temari asks. She’s bending down next to Kankuro, worried because he’s never gotten like this. Her brother is incredibly talented under pressure, smart and quick on his feet, never one to freeze in front of an enemy. But now, here he is, stiff with fear like she’s never seen before. 

“They’ve been tracking you since we got here,” Gaara says, arms folded across his chest. He makes no effort to be of comfort to Kankuro. Partially because he doesn’t know how, and partially because he thinks Temari will do a much better job. He and Kankuro don’t really talk about their feelings much. They just dodge them and make crude jokes about them. “Well, us. I saw Kiba this morning. Apparently he’s smelled them for weeks. He just thought they were our ANBU.” Gaara feels like an idiot. If anything,  _ he  _ should have sensed them. His sensory abilities are greatly diminished when they’re anywhere but the desert, but he still feels responsible. “He told me where they were.”

_ Kiba.  _ At the mention of his name, Kankuro lets out a choked-out noise, something that resembles frustration and sadness altogether. 

“Kankuro, don’t worry. I need you not to worry,” Temari says, trying rather helplessly to move his hands from his face so he’ll look at her, but it’s no use. “Nothing will happen to him. Nothing will happen to you, either. We’ll make sure of it.”

After a moment, Kankuro’s hands drag down the side of his face as he inhales sharply, trying to fill his lungs with anything that he can. Purple smears down his cheekbones. No matter what he paints on his skin, he is always reminded that there is someone under it. But right now, more than anything, he wishes for the comfort of a mask. He’s so very tired of being himself.

Gaara closes his eyes. He is not emotionless; he feels every ounce of fear that courses through each of his siblings’ skin, but struggles to show it by any means. Maybe that’s an asset in times like this, when all he can do is stare plain-faced and  _ think.  _ There are multiple plans whirring through his mind right now, considerations of who to fire and what laws to look up and how the hell he’ll get his brother home safely. 

“I’m not ready for everyone to know about this shit, man,” Kankuro’s voice breaks as it splits the silence, his head tipping back against the wall. “It’s nobody’s fucking- it’s nobody’s fucking business.”

“You’re right,” Temari says gently, tentatively reaching out for his shoulder. “It’s no one’s business. Your personal life is private. They’re all just old, Kankuro, and paranoid… they never meant to do something like this. Even those old Leaf guys.”

“I was never-” Out of sheer panic, Kankuro’s breaths are more erratic now. “I was never good enough for the fuckin’ council, anyway. Never. They  _ always had it out for me.” _

“You’re being irrational,” interrupts Gaara. He’s looking away, mostly through discomfort. He doesn’t know how to deal with something like this. “That isn’t true.”

“Oh yeah?” Kankuro asks, “How come they didn’t ask me to be Kazekage, then? I heard Tojuro say it himself that they didn’t want me. They would’ve asked Temari next--”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Gaara drawls, and Temari glares at him. One of the only other times he’s seen Kankuro so distraught was when their father was killed.

“Stop talking,” she says to Gaara, and returns her attention to Kankuro. 

“Tojuro didn’t pick you because he knew you were destined for other things. You’re  _ important,  _ Kankuro, you don’t need to be Kazekage for us to know that.”

Kankuro wants to cry, but he absolutely, fiercely will not let himself in front of Gaara. Maybe that’s why his words keep getting caught in the back of his throat, and his tongue feels so heavy in his mouth. And in the back of his mind, he knows that somebody as weak as him could never  _ hope  _ to be the Kazekage. 

“Then show me why you got fuckin’ picked,” Kankuro says finally, looking at Gaara. Kankuro wants so badly to be mad at him. He’s disgustingly jealous of Gaara sometimes, even though he won’t tell a soul. How embarrassing it is to envy his little brother the way he does from time to time. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gaara says flatly. Where his arms lay across his chest, his hand picks nervously at the fabric of his coat. 

“Tell me what I’m supposed to do right now,” Kankuro pleads, a shuddery breath racking through him as he closes his eyes. “Before I pass out.”

‘You’re not passing out,” argues Temari. Certainly Kankuro has a flair for the dramatic, but she snaps her fingers in front of him just in case. A panic attack could still knock him right out. Hesitantly, she looks to Gaara, too. 

The hand that had been pulling threads out of his coat stops. “We’re going to go home,” Gaara says plainly, “and I am going to fire every single council member that had anything to do with this.”

“Do you think the Sand ANBU will follow us back?” Temari asks. “What if…?” She lets her words hang off, but she’s worried they’ll go after Kankuro. Considering they’re fellow Sand shinobi, they can’t exactly kill them. It’ll make all of them criminals for sure. She shakes her head to get the idea out of her mind. “All their evidence is circumstantial. They might not even  _ have  _ anything on you,” she says to Kankuro. 

“I don’t care what evidence they have,” Gaara begins. The green in his eyes looks dull, and the air between the three of them suddenly hangs extremely thick. “If any of them lay a premeditated hand on Kankuro, I will kill them.”

Temari pales. “Gaara--”

“I’m going to go speak with Tsunade and say goodbye to Sakura,” Gaara continues, turning to walk down the hall. Sand rattles in his gourd, hissing quietly, though the cork doesn’t pop. “I’ll meet you at the gates in an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter ended up being very Gaara-centric but I think that's important to try and explore his relationship with Kankuro. I think they're really close, but they struggle emotionally sometimes. Gaara wants to be a mountain that nobody can move so that everybody can lean on him, but Kankuro's too scared to put any weight on him in case he breaks.  
> 2\. It is currently unclear what the penalty for homosexuality in Suna is because it's so hush-hush there. Kankuro coming out in his home village is something of historic proportions because the punishments used to be harsh (especially under Rasa's administration.) In addition, Kankuro's political stance and relation to Gaara ultimately (hopefully) changes the way he'll be looked at under the laws. 
> 
> As always I am on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle) so come say hey or send me headcanons, I am always looking for mutuals!!  
> Thanks for reading :)


	13. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO UPDATE SORRY   
> I've been working on my passion projects which have been some gaara-centric stuff and I also wrote mizukage smut and I've been all over the place  
> here are your favorite gay ninjas sorry it's a lil on the short side   
> TW blood/depictions of violence

Kankuro knows that sitting here with his back against the wall won’t do anything. It’ll give him less time to think and mentally prepare himself to go back home, and at the very least, he needs to say goodbye to Kiba, doesn’t he? If only he could feel his legs. 

“Everything is going to be fine, you know,” Temari’s voice echoes in his ears when she speaks, looking at him earnestly. Kankuro knows Temari like the back of his hand, and he can see that she’s saving face for him. 

She lifts her hand to his cheek, wiping off some of the paint that he’d smeared, trying to fix the crisp purple lines he’d set so carefully this morning. “You should go see Kiba,” she murmurs. “It might be a while before we’re back here again.” 

Temari is wistful as well, thinking about Shikamaru. In a way all of them are losing this time, or maybe it had been all of their fault for getting so carried away on what was supposed to be Chunin exams business. 

“I dunno if I want him to see me like this,” Kankuro sighs shakily. Maybe it would be easier to just… leave.

“You can’t just leave and not say goodbye,” Temari scoffs, “Are you serious?”

“I’m- it’s none of your business,” Kankuro mutters.

“Don’t be an idiot. God, Kankuro, don’t make all of this for nothing. If you get to keep one thing after all of this is over-- let it be him. I haven’t…” she pauses, shaking her head. “I haven’t seen you so happy in a really long time,” she says quietly.

Kankuro is silent, staring down at his knees. She’s right. His heart is still pattering, buzzing in his chest while she talks. “It’s ‘cause I haven’t been,” he says honestly. 

Temari’s chest tightens with guilt.  _ Shouldn’t she have known? _

Before she can respond, Kankuro says, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you and Gaara in an hour, right?”

~~~~~~

Kiba is somebody that’s easy to find. He does the same damn thing every single day. He’s a creature of habit, finds safety and comfort in a routine, and gets distracted when things are out of the ordinary. That’s why Kankuro knows exactly where to look for him: somewhere by the center of the village where he’ll be passing by on his walk with Akamaru. 

Of course, Kiba knows Kankuro is nearby before he can see him, and is already confused. He could’ve sworn Kankuro had work this morning. He would’ve, if that’s where Gaara was going? Kiba’s felt uneasy ever since that conversation earlier.

“Hey, I thought you w--”

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time, you’ve gotta listen to me,” Kankuro cuts him off when he catches up to Kiba. 

“What?” Kankuro’s a  _ mess.  _ His breathing is shallow while his chakra signature is anxious and erratic, and he can’t possibly expect Kiba to not be concerned. “No, slow down. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“I’m- nothing,” Kankuro answers with a scoff, internally disappointed in himself for not being able to mask his emotions better. As a shinobi he should excel in that department. “I’m serious. This is important.”

“You’re shaking like a fuckin’-- animal, or something,” Kiba frowns, doesn’t ignore the smeared paint on Kankuro’s cheek or the crookedness of his hood. “What’s going on?”

Kankuro has agonized over what the hell to tell Kiba this entire walk here. Normally, Kankuro would lie right through his stupid teeth. He doesn’t want to tell Kiba the events of the afternoon, doesn’t want to pull him into some terrible wave of misfortune that he most certainly doesn’t deserve. But if there’s one thing about Kiba, is that he  _ hates  _ liars, and he can smell a lie right off the bat. Kankuro knows it’s damn near impossible to even think about. 

They’re also in the middle of the village on a busy street, and Kankuro can’t exactly go into detail about politics. Are politics even important right now? He thinks Kiba would tell him to  _ shut up about the damn politics already and talk. _

“There’s a lot going on right now,” Kankuro says first, inhaling and closing his eyes. “The elders and Gaara got into a… thing, and apparently there have been ANBU tracking us--”

“That’s who--!” Kiba’s realization is stopped cold by Kankuro, who shakes his head. 

“Not in public. And- and I’m not done,” Kankuro says, irritably, frantically, trying to catch his train of thought. “And our village is a mess. We have to go back home. Our entire council is corrupt, and they also know that we’re together-- I don’t have time for you to interrupt me right now, Kiba!”

“Then stop tellin’ me crazy shit and expecting me not to react! You’re the one who keeps interrupting me! Cut it out!” Kiba nearly yells just by the sheer volume of his voice alone, and then closes his eyes, shaking his head. He needs to take it down a notch, he already knows. “What do you mean they know?”

“I mean that they  _ know.  _ And they’ve already got intel, and they probably saw everything I did here. It’s not- it’s not a big deal, Kiba, don’t--”

“It  _ is  _ a big deal!” Kiba argues. The middle of the street might not be the best place to have this argument, but neither of them can see anything but each other right now. “What’ll happen to you? Is it  _ safe _ for you to go back? Just stay here, I don’t want you--”

“It’s fine, everything is going to be fine, don’t--”

“I said to  _ stop fuckin’ interrupting me!”  _ Kiba is only so loud because he’s visibly upset. “You’re being a big fuckin’ idiot, do you hear me? If you’re a criminal up there, you’re a criminal. I don’t want somethin’ to happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” says Kankuro, motioning for Kiba to  _ please  _ just shut the hell up. 

“You wanna lie to me again? Right to my face, Kankuro?”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Kankuro says exasperatedly, tugging on his hood with frustration. “That it’s all gonna be okay? Because I don’t know if it is. I don’t know, and I’m freaking the hell out. And I don’t wanna  _ leave  _ yet, I was just starting to- to-” he stutters, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

Every fiber of Kiba knows he can’t ask Kankuro to stay, but God, he wants to. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, swallowing hard, “but you got a job to do. Do you hear me?”

They’re standing nearly three feet apart from each other, used to being discreet in public. Kiba’s hands keep themselves at his sides. He feels like Kankuro won’t want to make this any more obvious than it is, even if all he wants is to pull him into a hug. 

“You gotta take care of yourself,” Kiba continues with a shuddery breath, “that’s your job, so that way you can come back and see me. Alright?”

The very hug that Kiba held himself back from is the one Kankuro suddenly tugs him into. Kiba’s nose knocks against Kankuro’s chest and any other time he would complain, but instead he’s quiet, eyes squeezed shut as he lets his arms find their way around Kankuro’s middle, fingers curling against the black fabric of his shirt. 

More than anything, Kiba loves the way Kankuro holds him. He fits right between Kankuro’s arms, and it feels like the dips of his shoulders were made for Kankuro’s arms to rest on top of. Kankuro’s face is pressed into his neck, and neither of them talk for a while.

The funny thing about Konoha, too, is that nobody cares how you love somebody here. People easily walk around them and move about their day. Nobody stops to point or jeer unless they’re angry that Kiba and Kankuro are taking up too much of the street. And Kankuro wonders, even if somebody said anything to him, would he let go?

“I promise I will,” Kankuro breathes, and Kiba knows it’s not a lie. 

Kankuro pulls away, then, as his hands find either side of Kiba’s face. He’s handsome, truly, with these kind brown eyes and such a sculpted face; he’s got teeth that stick right out of his mouth when he’s not even trying and long eyelashes that always cast the loveliest shadows on his face in the morning. Kankuro feels familiar stubble under his hands. 

And the way Kiba looks at him could make Kankuro’s heart stop, like Kiba doesn’t see anybody but him. For the first time, Kankuro believes it, feels important and seen in Kiba’s eyes like he never has before. 

“Thank you,” Kankuro says, unable to help the watery smile that comes to his lips.

“What? For what?”

“For _ everything.  _ God. Look at you. You’re…” Kankuro shakes his head, “you’re everything I never thought I would get to have. Do you know how happy you make me?”

Kiba laughs lightly, more of a giggle because when he  _ really  _ laughs it usually lights up a whole room. “You deserve everything good that’s comin’ to ya. And you know it. I don’t wanna hear otherwise.” His hands rest atop Kankuro’s chest. “How crazy is it that you blew in from Suna, huh? That you just showed up here and started taking up all my time?” 

“You’re the first good thing I’ve ever let myself have,” Kankuro says. “And I can’t ask you to wait for me, because I don’t know what the hell will happen,” he shakes his head. 

“You take as long as you want,” Kiba says firmly, “because I’m gonna be here. You promise to come, and I’ll promise to be here when you do.”

With a blatant disregard for anyone around them, Kankuro tips Kiba’s chin up with his hands, leaning down for a kiss. It might make town gossip- some kids from Academy on their walk home will talk about seeing Kiba with the big white dog kiss somebody in the street and their mothers will tell them to stop spreading rumors, but it’ll actually be true. 

Kankuro kisses Kiba in the street the same way he kisses him behind closed doors, with the same  _ I love you  _ and  _ you’re a part of me,  _ but now with  _ I’ll miss you  _ and  _ please let it stay that way.  _

When they pull away, Kankuro finally lets his hands drop from Kiba’s face and lets them rest on his waist instead. “I love you,” he reminds Kiba, rather sadly now than anything else. 

“I love you more-- make sure you write, okay? Don’t be dumb and ignore me for weeks ‘cause you get busy. And… don’t stay up all night doing stupid stuff. And don’t drink too much,” Kiba blurts out. The reminders just keep coming. 

The mention of drinking is almost a necessity for a new conversation entirely, but there’s just no time. “I’ll write. And I won’t drink. And what if I stay up all night writing you letters?” Kankuro tips his forehead down against Kiba’s. “What then?”

“That’s your one excuse.” Kiba closes his eyes, taking a second to inhale. Dogs never forget a scent, but something tells him he’ll miss Kankuro’s. “No other broads in your bed.”

Kankuro laughs louder than he thought he would, pushing back to look at Kiba in disbelief. “Who do you think I am?”

“I dunno! You fucked a hooker before me, didn’t you? No fuckin’ hookers after,” Kiba jabs at his chest, “I mean it.”

Kankuro shakes his head, taking the hand that Kiba had just poked at him. “It’s just you. I promise. I don’t want anybody else. Who’s gonna keep me up all night talking like you do, huh?”

Kiba goes on for hours on end at night. He thoroughly enjoys pillow talk, and he also likes to casually go through every detail of his day when they unwind in the evenings. It drives Kankuro insane, but now he wonders how he’ll fall asleep. 

“Guess you’ll have to read my letters instead,” Kiba smiles gently.

“I guess I will,” Kankuro says. He still hasn’t let go of Kiba’s hand, and he keeps hold of it when he looks down at Akamaru. “You keep an eye on him for me while I’m gone, okay?”

Akamaru barks, his tail wagging while he nuzzles Kankuro’s free hand, licking the side of it.

“I’ll bring you lots of good things when I come back.” When, not if. He has to keep telling himself that. 

“For me, too?” Kiba asks playfully, squeezing Kankuro’s hand. 

“For you?” Kankuro laughs, squeezing Kiba’s hand right back, “anything.”

They’re standing apart now, the appropriate time for Kankuro to turn and head towards the gates. He can’t bring himself to. 

“I love you,” Kiba says again, “don’t you fuckin’ forget it, alright?”

“I won’t,” says Kankuro. With one last squeeze of Kiba’s hand, he lets it drop. “I’ll see you in a few weeks. I promise.”

~~~

Three days later, when Kankuro, Temari, and Gaara reach the desert and can see Suna’s skyline, Kankuro feels his heart in his throat. 

“Don’t go off by yourself,” warns Gaara, “not until we know the gravity of the situation.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kankuro responds. “I don’t want you fucking up in front of the council for me.”

“Let me ‘fuck up’ as I please,” Gaara says coolly. Swear words always sound foreign when they fall from his lips, and if he weren’t so anxious, Kankuro would laugh. 

“He’s right. Don’t go off by yourself,” Temari adds as they get closer. The high walls of the Sand village are nearing, and they’ve already been spotted by the guards. At the very least, security hadn’t suffered while Gaara was away. 

“The sooner we find Baki, the better,” says Gaara mutters, more to himself than anyone else. 

“Where is he?” Temari murmurs, looking around as they walk through the village walls. It’s odd- usually he would’ve come to greet them by now, or at least sent somebody else if he was busy. 

In fact, none of the stationed soldiers by the last gate have moved to let them pass- and that’s when Gaara realizes that they  _ aren’t allowed.  _ Instead of Baki waiting at the gate, it’s three council members, with Tojuro in the lead. 

“Kazekage-sama, we can’t allow you to bring a criminal into the village,” says Tojuro, “I’m sure you understand.”

“There are no criminals with me,” Gaara responds flatly, “and I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Stupid boy,” mutters a woman next to Tojuro, shaking his head. “This village is falling apart.”

“Your brother has shamed our village,” says Tojuro, “and I will not let him past the gates.”

“You will let him past the gates,” says Gaara, “or you will regret it.”

It’s wise strategy to assume that the Kazekage always wants to argue, because while Gaara has a conversation with Tojuro and the rest of the elders, three ANBU guards descend from the walls in a sneak attack. Temari’s fan is faster than all three of them, but she doesn’t need to defend herself. 

They’re only after Kankuro, and she should’ve known.

In a flash, there’s a knife to Kankuro’s neck and three hits that disable his chakra network. 

Gaara freezes in a way Kankuro has never seen him, with sand out and fingers trembling, thinking thinking  _ thinking,  _ because this isn’t some sort of game and Kankuro is not a political pawn. He knows they’ll kill him if he’s not careful, and Gaara wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let it happen. 

“Temari,” Gaara says carefully, “put your weapon down. I won’t have you charged for treason.”

“I don’t care about treason,” Temari says through gritted teeth, because all she can look at is her brother with a knife to his neck from someone in his own village. 

“If you so much as move an inch of sand I’ll slit his throat. In fact, why don’t I do it right now? Do we really value his disgusting blood that much?” The ANBU digs the tip of his kunai into Kankuro’s neck and  _ drags _ , slicing just halfway across to make an incision. 

Kankuro cries out in pain, paralyzed and unable to do anything other than  _ scream.  _

The sound of his brother screaming at the village gates sends Gaara’s hands up, sand rising around him. The ANBU is toying with him, Gaara can tell, because the wound is anything but deep. 

“You’re going to slit his throat? Do it. I dare you,” Gaara snarls. No sooner than the ANBU can slice into Kankuro’s skin, Gaara is sending spears of sand right through every agent that’s holding his brother. But the one with the knife gets a dig in, slicing right across the front of Kankuro’s throat. 

Temari catches Kankuro when he falls from their grasp, coughing and spluttering and gasping for breath. With his chakra networks still temporarily disabled, he can barely move, and the blood dripping from his throat isn’t helping him breathe, either. 

“You have to get him into the village. He’ll bleed out otherwise,” Gaara’s voice suddenly cuts into her ears, and if Temari didn’t know any better, she would think Gaara is  _ panicking.  _

But the ANBU haven’t stopped for them, and Gaara kills seven more of his own men before he realizes this isn’t just a stick-up. This is a  _ coup. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wanted to know why Kankuro wears face paint over his neck in Boruto... perhaps he's covering a certain scar.   
> Come say hello to me [on tumblr!!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)Thanks for reading!! Sorry it was kinda short :(


	14. Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had an atrocious day and writing this really made me feel better, i am immensely proud of it and hope you all enjoy  
> TW for graphic depictions of violence/pain, blood  
> stay tuned for headcanons at the end!

One of the biggest lessons Temari has ever learned about being a shinobi- and a person- is that there are some things that you can’t train for.

Holding her six foot tall brother while he bleeds from the neck and coughs so much that he starts to choke is one of them. But Temari’s almost lost one of her brothers, and she won’t lose another one. _She can’t._

“It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, stop, stopstop _ stop, _ ” she whispers frantically, as she scrambles to try and find a way to  _ move  _ Kankuro. She just can’t bear all of his weight on her own- he’s bigger than her, all muscle, and at most she could move him a few feet at a slow pace. “Stop trying to talk, stop trying to move, stop.”

If it wasn’t for the wall of sand separating Temari and Kankuro from the battle, she doesn’t know what would happen to them otherwise. And she won’t stop to think about it, not right now while Kankuro’s shirt is starting to grow sticky with blood and his eyes are getting glassy.

Temari doesn’t know a lot about chakra network paralysis- especially because it’s done in many different ways. Sometimes people can talk, sometimes they can’t. Sometimes it’s only isolated parts of the body, and sometimes even the slightest movement can cause excruciating pain. It seems to be the latter, because suddenly when she tries to move him, Kankuro  _ screams,  _ the kind that makes her drop him altogether, worried that she’s hit some sort of hidden wound. There’s no way she’ll make it into the village with him right now- all she can do is hope that it wears off in enough time for her to walk with him. 

“Stop screaming, stop--” Temari’s hands shake as she positions him to sit up against the large sand wall that surrounds the entrance to their village, and she wonders, is she still the  _ cruelest kunoichi  _ when there are tears clouding her vision? When she’s furiously searching her pack for something to treat the wound that’s torn through her brother’s neck, and when he’s still coughing and spluttering and trying to tell her something?

Kankuro grimaces when Temari presses cloth to his neck, breathing in raggedly. If she could pay attention to anything else but the blood covering her hands, she would be able to see him wiggling his fingers, trying to  _ move,  _ damnit, but it’s not his chakra network anymore, he can feel it. His blood feels like ice that stabs through his veins with each movement he makes. 

**_SUNAGAKURE (6 MONTHS AGO)_ **

_ “You see this shit?” Kankuro laughs. He spins around on his workshop chair to turn and look at Gaara, holding up a small vial filled with black liquid.  _

_ “What is ‘that shit’?” Gaara asks.  _

_ “I’m talkin’ about the nastiest fuckin’ poison you’ve ever seen in your life,” Kankuro grins. “And once I figure out the antidote, it’ll be exclusive to the Sand. And, more importantly, it’ll beat whatever Sasori ever thought was cool.” _

_ Almost hauntingly, the Sasori puppet hangs somewhere in the back. Kankuro hasn’t quite fixed him up yet, but he will.  _

_ “You’re the successor to the technique. It’s only fitting,” Gaara says as he takes the vial from Kankuro, “is it fatal?” _

_ “That’s the goal. I used it on last week’s mission. I don’t really know yet- can’t run proper tests, you know how that goes,” Kankuro explains. He can’t exactly use human subjects unless he’s in battle, “but I don’t think so. It’s more like… the kind of shit that’ll make you wish you were fuckin’ dead. It messes with your blood. You know?” _

_ “I don’t know.” Gaara has never been poisoned. _

_ “The guy couldn’t move. The idea is to make your body attack itself from the inside out-- make it so saving yourself hurts. He didn’t stand a chance.” _

_ “I see.” _

_ “And I’m gonna deck out Temari’s tools with it,” Kankuro continues, “so she can use it, too.” He motions to Temari’s ninja pack spread across his desk. _

_ “Let me know when it’s done, then. I’m sure the medical corp would love to examine it. This must have been what the council was talking about earlier today- have you informed them?” _

_ Kankuro nods proudly. “They’re starting to use it with weapons as soon as next week.” _

Suddenly Kankuro realizes that he’s become his own experiment. 

He can feel the flow of chakra in his body now, but it’s no use. Each of his limbs feels like it’s being stabbed no matter how tiny his movements are, with pain shocking his body. He’d done well, hadn’t he?  _ He’d created something absolutely vile.  _

“Temari,” Kankuro gasps, tipping his head back against the wall, crying out again with the pain from speaking. 

“I told you to stop talking!” 

“Look in the cut,” Kankuro grimaces, barely able to make his words out. “For black.”

“What? Kankuro, you’re not making sense.”

“Poison,” Kankuro says raggedly, “look for-”

Temari gasps when she puts two and two together, moving the blood-soaked cloth off of Kankuro’s neck. And he’s right. Of course her damn brother is writhing in a pool of his own blood and he’s  _ right,  _ analyzing the battle that was supposed to kill him when he’s supposed to be busy  _ dying.  _

It’s faint, but there are little black beads that dot Kankuro’s blood and the outside of the wound, a telltale sign of a poison kunai at the very least.  _ These people wanted to kill him.  _

“I need you to tell me what to do,” Temari orders, even though her voice is thick with tears, “do you have the antidote? Is it one of yours?”

“Yes- I’m not sure--” Kankuro coughs, and the sudden jolt of his shoulders makes him cry out again, his fingers grasping at the sand under him. “--if it works. My bag.”

“Your bag. Fuck. Fuck, okay,” Temari says shakily, nodding quickly. Before she does anything else, she secures a bandage around his neck with whatever she has in her pack. He needs  _ stitches,  _ but she doesn’t have the right equipment or skill set for them. Stopping the bleeding will have to do. “You said you’re not sure if it works?”

Kankuro has scrolls and ninja tools strapped to his back, and Temari tries her best to turn him gently so she can start digging through it. But Kankuro’s vision is starting to blur; the pain is becoming too much for his body, and the blood is still dripping down his neck. 

“I don’t… know,” he mumbles. He wishes he could explain to her that he doesn’t even know if it’s his (although it feels like it) and his antidote is far from finished. He’s never had to use it. The black poison is still too new. 

“Hey.  _ Hey,”  _ Temari says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, please.” With each word, she swallows back more tears.

With each passing second, the poison travels further through Kankuro’s blood, icily streaming up his veins, slicing up his nerves. He can’t help the hoarse scream that leaves him as he continues to gasp for breath. He’s struggling to hold himself up in a sitting position, doesn’t think he can feel his hands anymore. 

_ Does he deserve to die? _

Temari is tossing the contents of Kankuro’s pack to the side in the sand, ignoring knives and vials and some sort of goddamn keychain he’d probably fucking gotten in Konoha, digging for the antidote that she’s gambling on. 

“It’s going to be fine, you’re going to be okay,” she repeats, shaking her head, trying to drown out the way her little brother is groaning in excruciating pain and writhing in the sand from something his  _ own village had done to him.  _

“You’re not dying, Kankuro, you’re not dying,” Temari says, and she wonders who she’s trying to convince more as her fingers close around a small glass vial of clear liquid. “Is this it?”

Kankuro lets out a noise of approval, too weak for speech, and without preamble Temari rolls up his arm and sticks the needle inside of it.

Kankuro screams so loudly it feels like the desert echoes, stuttering for breath as he feels  _ something  _ wash over his body. But an experiment is never guaranteed, and his vision goes white one last time. He thinks he hears Temari calling for him, but once his eyes close, he can’t hear very much of anything. 

The next one screaming is Temari, violently shaking him even though she knows that’s not the answer, with shrieks of  _ wake up wake up wake up. _

The rush of sand is deafening, with the grunts of bodies landing on the ground as they come after Gaara, one by one. The reason no hit has landed on Temari is because a plume of sand blocks each one. 

The gravity of this hits her even harder, now, with the knowledge that to objective eyes, her youngest brother has publicly committed a crime so steep that the village is probably cowering. The civilians must have gotten word of  _ the Kazekage killing his own men,  _ but Temari can’t even think about that, because as far as she’s concerned those men  _ attacked her brother.  _

There is sand in her eyes as she stands, staking her fan in the ground, spread out to shield her and Kankuro because  _ she promised _ she wouldn’t let him die, but she can’t protect him if she screams and cries. If the antidote works, he could wake up in minutes or he could wake up in hours. And if it doesn’t…?

Temari’s skin is numb to the wind that suddenly gusts through the alleyway, slicing fragments of sand and rock clean off of the walls, swirling around her without her making a single hand sign or even touching her fan. 

It’s circling around  _ her,  _ deflecting any hit that comes her way. Temari’s wind style has never had a color until now, when each burst of air around her shines with a pale lavender glint. 

When she turns and swings her fan, purple haze coats the wave of wind like it’s glowing, and it propels towards the battle at a speed Temari has never seen in her life. It glows like chakra that’s not her own but feels so familiar that she can’t place it, curls around her like it’s  _ protecting her.  _

And when Temari whirls around again to look at Kankuro, the same purple aura is wrapping around his body, twinkling in the shape of two hands. 

The same ones that she’s seen wrap around Gaara. 

_ Go,  _ says a warm voice in her head,  _ It’s a mother’s job to protect her children. _

If Temari could feel anything but the adrenaline thundering through her veins she would be conscious of the way her shoulders are heaving with sobs, of the way that glowing purple hands are tenderly wiping the tears from her cheeks and simultaneously blocking knives that come for her head. 

She would be conscious of the fact that her mama remembered her, too, even after all these years Temari wondered if she’d forgotten. 

_ He will not die,  _ says Karura’s voice, and Temari has to force herself to believe that mothers are always right, because she can’t fathom thinking otherwise. 

Temari takes her fan, nodding as she sobs out a “thank you” to what seems like no one in particular, and forges ahead to run to Gaara. 

The alley glows purple that night while the two of them fight a war that seemed to have happened right underneath them, one that neither of them deserved. And when the last traitorous body hits the ground, Gaara collapses against Temari with just about no chakra left. She holds another one of her brothers up, just like she always has. 

Protective hands are still covering Kankuro, an impossible defense that nobody could have anticipated. Gaara and Temari’s moment of peace is fleeting because of the sound of more bodies running through the sand to them. 

Gaara smells  _ blood  _ as he sends his chakra out, just barely lifting himself off of Temari. “It’s Baki,” he rasps, and slumps again. His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, his legs shaking with exhaustion. “It’s Baki.”

“Where have you  _ been?”  _ Temari cries out, although by the look of the squad Baki has brought, it’s clear this wasn’t the only fight in the village tonight. Baki himself is barely standing, and the small group of men and women that stand next to him are equally spent. “You have to get Kankuro,” she says weakly, motioning to where Kankuro is lying. He’s still out cold, but his chest is rising and falling. That’s all she can ask for. “Baki, get Kankuro,  _ please.” _

Baki urges three others to rush to Kankuro’s side, lifting him up off of the sand. The purple glow dissipates slowly, as if fading back into the sky. 

“Are you two alright?” Baki calls back, grimacing and holding his side. His uniform is stained with blood. “Temari, are you hurt? You’re covered--”

“It’s Kankuro’s,” Temari says, her eyes hollow. “Baki, they--”

“They wanted him dead,” Gaara says hoarsely, “they knew what they were going to do as soon as they found out.”

“They wanted all three of you dead,” Baki says, and he comes over to wrench Gaara from Temari’s shoulder. Gaara is not very heavy, but Temari doesn’t need to bear his weight all by herself. 

Gaara sucks in a tired breath, “I don’t understand. I came here to rewrite the laws. I…”

“And you will,” Baki says through gritted teeth- the fury in his eyes is unmistakable as he looks through the carnage of the village gates.

“I won’t. I will step down in shame if it means I spare the lives of my family,” Gaara spits. 

“You will not step down!” Baki barks. 

“I have to. They tried to kill Kankuro because he’s in a position of power. If it wasn’t for me, it never would have--”

“They tried to kill Kankuro because they’re  _ filthy traitors,  _ fools who put politics before lives. This is not your fault. And  _ you will not step down,”  _ Baki reiterates.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Gaara asks wearily. 

“Because everyone who thought about crossing you is dead,” Baki grunts. “I saw to it.”

Next to them, Temari falls to her knees out of exhaustion.

~~~

Kankuro’s eyes open six hours later. 

The vivid tans and yellows of the Sand village hospital come into view. When he blinks to clear his vision, he can see the outline of Temari and Gaara sitting against the wall. Gaara is upright with his legs out, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, but he’s never quite asleep. Temari is asleep with her head on his lap, and though her hands are curled inwards towards her chest, it’s still visible that they’re stained with blood.  _ Whose blood is that? _

When he cranes his neck to get a closer look at them, he’s met with a sharp pain, enough to make him hiss uncomfortably. 

Gaara’s eyes snap open first, and he responds with shaking Temari’s shoulder. “Temari.  _ Temari.  _ Kankuro’s awake.”

Temari wakes with a start, blinking the sleep from her eyes and shooting up. She’s clearly fatigued, wobbles a bit when she stands, though Gaara takes her arm and they go to see him  _ together.  _

There’s some sort of vitamin drip that’s hooked up to Kankuro’s wrist, although for the most part he looks  _ okay.  _ They’d cut his blood-stained shirt right off when they admitted him, and across his arms are bruises that occurred from the poison bursting his blood vessels. It had taken incredibly fine medical ninjutsu- the kind only Sakura could have taught- to repair them. 

The only part that looks more haunting than anything is the thick line across the front of Kankuro’s throat, sewed together with stitches that hurt every time he turns his head. 

Temari climbs right onto the hospital bed, curling into Kankuro’s side without so much of a word. And before he can say anything to her, she has her head on his chest, and she  _ sobs.  _

There is no talking. Kankuro wraps his good arm around her, his breaths shallow as he rubs a hand over her back. She smells like blood and dirt; all three of them do, and she can’t make out anything to say except  _ I’m sorry.  _

“What are you sorry for?” Kankuro finally speaks, breaking the silence. His voice is raspy with sleep, hand heavy on Temari’s back. 

“That they hurt you,” she whispers, “that I couldn’t do anything, that I--”

“Temari,” Gaara interrupts. He stands away from all the  _ hugging,  _ though his voice is gentle.  _ People who are stressed like it when you speak softly.  _ “You did everything you could. If you hadn’t been there, both of us would have died. The same goes for our mother,” he says quietly.

Temari’s head tips up, she pauses in a sniffle. “You felt it too? You--”

“What?” Kankuro asks wearily.

“Mother’s chakra,” Temari says quietly. “It kept you alive. Because- because they rigged that fucking knife, Kankuro, they rigged it with the poison that  _ you fucking made  _ because they  _ knew--”  _ angry tears are streaming down her face now, leaving tracks in the dirt and grime and bloodstains that coat her cheeks. “They knew they were going to try and kill you from the beginning.”

“What can I say? They never liked me all that much,” Kankuro jokes weakly, the best he can offer for the gravity of the situation.

“It wasn’t a joke!” Temari smacks the front of his chest, though it barely hits because she won’t hurt him. “Those were Suna men. Your own village. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Gaara stands silently, stoically, behind Temari. “So we’ll make it the way it should be. Tomorrow we’ll start. We could even start right now.”

“Start what? Gaara, it’s three in the morning and you need to sleep,” Temari sniffles. 

Gaara ignores her. “We’ll have to begin by restructuring the entire council. In addition, there are a multitude of laws that I have to deconstruct and rewrite. For one, we won’t make Kankuro’s existence punishable by death.”

“You crazy fucker. Go to bed,” Kankuro breathes. He’s too tired to roll his eyes. 

“I also have to address the village. There’s been a _ coup d’etat,  _ Kankuro, this isn’t a time for me to go to bed,” Gaara says testily. “This was an assassination attempt. In addition, I don’t even know if we have any worthy council candidates to consider. Not to mention we’ll have new Chunin coming in any day now provided that the exams go well… and the Leaf hasn’t even been informed of any unrest.”

“Are you going to tell them?” Kankuro grunts. 

“No,” Gaara says coldly, without hesitation. “I have enough to deal with regarding  _ their  _ council. The last thing we need is for them to know we’re weak. And that we apparently kill our own high-ranking men out of sheer bigotry.”

Gingerly and absent-mindedly, Kankuro’s fingers move over the raised scar on his neck, one that he knows will undoubtedly be there for the rest of his life. A permanent reminder of what he is- who he is- and the fact that he should have died for it. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Don’t you dare apologize for the mess that the elders left for you.”

“You could have died.”

“For you? I would die twenty times over,” says Gaara. Before Kankuro can get a chance to respond, he turns on his heel and walks out of the hospital room, muttering, “I have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO  
> 1\. I've had the headcanon for a while that Karura protects each of the siblings similarly to the way she protects Gaara with sand (as we see in Kankuro's dream.) For the purpose of Temari's knowledge this chapter, Karura protecting Gaara has already happened (Even though I know it canonically happened for the first time in the war, but. Deal with it). However, I think that Karura protects Temari with her wind style and that was what I tried to showcase here. 
> 
> Come say hello to me and talk sand sibs with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)!!!


	15. A Little Bit Of Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greetings it's 3AM  
> 1\. I truly can't remember if it's been mentioned already or not (this fic is 100+ pages long and I couldn't quite find it) but Temari lives with Gaara and Kankuro as well, she just isn't there as often  
> 2\. I did not fucking beta read this I just wanted to post it so if there's mistakes or inconsistencies... good luck charlie HSKDHJFH  
> TW for descriptions of scars/injuries, depression, alcohol

In the weeks that follow, once Kankuro is sent home from the hospital, every sound has him whirling around to see if someone is behind him. As a shinobi, it’s common nature to always have your guard up, but this sensation usually fades in one’s home village. Eerily, Kankuro doesn’t feel that safety anymore. 

For some time, it really is recovery. The poison takes a while to fully leave his system- even weeks after his arms still ache when he lifts them. The days start to blur together because of how long he spends at home. 

Gaara and Temari are rarely there, though. Gaara has been at work ever since they’d made sure Kankuro was alright, and Kankuro hears him coming in late at night and leaving early in the morning. He wonders if Gaara is sleeping. He thinks he already knows the answer. 

Temari goes to work with Gaara. With Kankuro’s right-hand position being technically vacant, someone has to fill in. It’s only natural that it’s her. 

Gaara will often stop into Kankuro’s bedroom after he comes home to tell him about the day’s events, and each day he looks more and more tired. Kankuro reminds him to sleep and maybe “fuckin’ eat something,” all while he’s been in bed himself for two weeks now. Maybe Kankuro can give advice, but he can never follow it. 

From what Gaara tells him, there’s currently an intense hire-and-rehire process being mitigated by him and Baki regarding the council. Hundreds of villagers have applied, but this new application needs to be rigorous. In addition, every politically active villager is being interviewed for traces of involvement with the coup. This is something that would normally be easy, but they’re so short-staffed it’s taking much more energy. From everyone. 

Temari’s check-ins are a little more investigative. She fusses over him, asking if he’s done anything all day, if he’s been outside, if he’s made himself breakfast. Kankuro’s answers are usually less than satisfactory, and he doesn’t have a lot of interest in talking about it with her even though she tries to. 

“It’s dark in here,” Temari says one morning when she walks in, maybe on day five, maybe on day six, maybe on day twelve. Kankuro can’t really tell anymore. With the sun constantly beating down on their village, it’s rare for it to be dark during the day. Damn near impossible. But it’s nine in the morning, and his blinds are down. He’s not even _awake yet--_

“Okay? No one asked--” Kankuro lets out a grunt of annoyance, blocking the light with his arms when Temari pulls the blinds up. 

“It’s been two weeks, Kankuro,” Temari says. Sometimes she doesn’t know how to show love in any other way but this one- roughly and bluntly. “Time to get up. Whatever’s going on, let’s talk about it.”

“Nothing is going on,” Kankuro huffs. 

“I have to be back at work in an hour. I don’t have time for you to lie to me,” Temari says. The irritation in her voice is more a result of stress than anything else, and Kankuro knows that, but it still rubs him the wrong way. 

“If you just came in here to yell at me, why are you even here?” 

“I’m not here to yell at you. I’m here to check on you--”

“You checked. And I’m fine.”

“I can’t just let you sit around in here for the rest of the month, Kankuro. Your life has to start again at some time. You have to go back to _work,_ you can’t just--”

“I’m up, okay?” Kankuro snaps, shoving his blankets off of him in a moment of decision and moving to stand. “Are you happy?” He asks irritably.

He’s still in his underwear. There are still bruises and scratches that litter his skin. For someone so big and tall he looks awfully small this morning, with his shoulders hunched and his arms limp, one weak hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Temari tries to focus on something, anything, but the jagged red scar that crosses the front of his neck. 

Kankuro can feel her staring at it, and turns away, pretending to look for a shirt when he really doesn’t care for one. “You can go back to work now. I’m fine,” he mumbles, taking the shirt and instead disappearing into the bathroom. 

It’s just for a change of scenery, really. He can’t stand having Temari breathe down his neck right now even though she cites that she cares. 

He doesn’t know the answer to any of her questions. He doesn’t know why all of a sudden, his limbs feel so heavy that he can’t get out of bed, even though his body is mostly physically healed. Kankuro hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he’s been home from the hospital, because every sound wakes him up in a cold sweat, and the circles under his eyes are very telling. 

He leans forward towards his bathroom mirror, poking at the bags under his eyes. Does he really look like such a mess?

But no matter how long he stares at himself in the mirror, the one thing he can’t take his eyes off of is the ghastly, disgusting scar that crosses over his throat. 

All shinobi have scars. Some are worse than others. Kankuro has seen men with scars over their eyes, their faces. Scars that slit over an entire back. Jabs from kunai in the chest that someone barely survived. He’s never thought any less of someone with such a battle wound- in fact most would agree that a shinobi scar is a mark of victory and worth. 

But Kankuro doesn’t consider his scar anything of the sort. It makes him feel _ugly,_ it makes him feel _marred_ and _disfigured._ His skin no longer feels safe; when he runs his fingers over that thick red line it feels angry and dangerous. Pitifully, helplessly, he wants it gone. _He wants it gone._

“Kankuro? You alright?” Temari calls from the bedroom. “You’ve been in there a while.”

Tearing his attention away from his reflection, Kankuro clears his throat. “I’m fine,” he says, and wonders how long he’ll keep repeating that.

~~~~~~

**TRACK 7 : SAVE MYSELF - ASHE**

From time to time when he’s alone again, Kankuro will glance from his bed to his desk. There’s a blank piece of paper on it that’s been sitting there for four and a half days. The top has the date, and an official Sunagakure stamp, and then in Kankuro’s characteristically messy handwriting, _Kiba,_

...and that’s it. It’s the most he’s been able to bring himself to write even with all this free recovery time on his hands. When Kankuro looks at it again that evening, he still doesn’t touch it. 

He’s sure Kiba is furious. A letter had been the one thing he asked for, and Kankuro feels it’s only natural that he couldn’t pull through. 

_Don’t be dumb and ignore me for weeks ‘cause you get busy,_ echoes Kiba’s voice in his head. _Take care of yourself._

Oh, Kankuro’s doing everything wrong, he thinks, when the next time he sits down to write that letter it’s because he’s poured himself a drink. 

It’s not even his alcohol. It’s something he knows Temari has been keeping for Shikamaru when he visits, some nice whiskey from Konoha that Kiba had raved about, but they don’t have anything else and whenever Kankuro’s by himself he _doesn’t know what else to do._

He notices that ever since he started going out more and more his siblings don’t really keep alcohol in the house anymore. He’s no idiot- he absolutely knows it’s because of him. _Don’t drink too much,_ echoes Kiba again as Kankuro tips the glass of whiskey to his lips. 

_I miss you,_ Kankuro scrawls under Kiba’s name, and then pauses again. He puts his pen down. He’s so weak. 

He’s weak for turning to one of his vices without even trying to throw it aside. He’s weak for being so easily controlled by his environment, for letting some bigots almost kill him. He’s weak for being paralyzed by an instrument of his own design.

And Kankuro’s the fucking weakest for drinking Kiba’s favorite brand of Konoha whiskey after he promised him that he wouldn’t. 

Temari yells at him that evening when she comes into his room and he’s slumped over his desk. “Are you proud of yourself?” She scoffs, when she has to pull him off of his desk chair to get him into bed. In her frustration, she doesn’t even think to snatch the rest of the bottle. She leaves it on his desk. “Did this help?”

_It didn’t._

~~~~~

This cycle continues for two more nights. The second night Gaara and Temari don’t see, because work keeps them out of the house, and by the time they return Kankuro is passed out cold in his bed. 

However, on the third night, Temari walks right in from work and threatens to break the bottle over his head.

“Enough is enough!” 

“Shut _up!_ ” Kankuro jeers. He’s drunk and obnoxious, leering towards her to try and grab the bottle, but missing by a large margin.

“Idiot,” hisses Temari. There are tears clouding her vision, but she’s so angry she can’t even feel that they’re there. “I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this every goddamn night, _Talk to me._

Kankuro’s little guilty pleasure habit has turned into something that shakes her when she sees it. He’s never been an example of restraint, or a polite drunk, or anything of the sort, but he’s also never been the type to swipe a bottle of expensive alcohol right from their cupboards when he knows it’s not his. She wonders how bad he must have been hurting all this time, because Kankuro rarely drinks for fun anymore. He just drinks because he’s in pain. 

“I don’t _want_ to talk to you,” Kankuro slurs, “do you get that? D’you get that I don’t wanna talk- wanna talk to you?”

“So you’re going to sit there like a stupid drunk? Is that what you’re going to do?” Temari shoots back, jerking the bottle out of his grasp when he reaches for it again. 

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you. Nobody _fuckin’_ asked, for your- for your opinion,” Kankuro replies. A hiccup follows. 

“Is this recovery for you? Is this _healing?”_ Temari sneers, holding up the bottle. “Is this what you call taking care of yourself?”

Truthfully, she should know better, that yelling at Kankuro when he’s had a few (more than a few) is useless because of how out of control he can get. She’ll only serve to make him angrier, and God, she wishes she had whatever restraint Gaara does. But Gaara doesn’t know how to talk to Kankuro, either. None of them know how to talk very well at all. 

“Temari, I swear t’god, if you don’t get th’fuck out of my room I’ll--” Kankuro lurches to point to the door, but someone’s already walking through it. 

“You’ll do what?” Gaara asks coolly. _When did he get home?_

“And _you-_ get the _hell_ out!” Kankuro yells. Nothing will ever make him shove Temari, but Gaara? Gaara, with his stupid smug face and his dumb crossed arms that Kankuro wants to snap like a twig? 

Kankuro pushes Gaara with the full intent of sending him flying through the door, a poor decision, he realizes, when the sand comes hissing back at him. Gaara falls back a few feet at most, caught by his ultimate defense. He doesn’t fight Kankuro back, though. Only keeps his distance. 

And there’s that _coolness_ Temari wishes she had, because in an instant she’s yelling _don’t you dare put your hands on him like that_ and she feels something in front of her holding her back. Looking down, she expects sand, but it’s Gaara’s hand. 

Kankuro and Gaara have fought many, many times. Both of them have a collective amount of scars, permanent damage they’ve done to the house, and plenty of unnerving stories. They’re two men with emotional issues- fighting works wonderfully for them. But something about this seems much sadder than just being angry at each other. Gaara only wishes he knew what to do. 

“I’m not picking a fight with you when you can barely stand up,” he decides finally. His arms find their natural place crossed over his chest. 

“Uncross your arms, stupid, y’look like a fuckin’ loser,” taunts Kankuro. His words aren’t getting any clearer, and neither is his thought process.

“Stop talking,” Gaara mutters, “you’re making yourself look even stupider.” By far, nothing annoys Gaara more than a moron. Sometimes Kankuro really fits the bill. “Temari, why don’t you go to bed?”

Gaara can sense Temari is overwhelmed and upset. There’s no use in keeping her as part of diffusing the situation if her emotions will just cloud her judgement. In Gaara’s mind, there is always a strict order of things: how will the situation be dealt with? What is he responsible for? How will he achieve it? There’s no room for his emotions here. 

Temari’s shoulders sag. She’s still holding the large, empty bottle of whiskey, and she wants to throw it against Kankuro’s wall. 

“Yeah, Temari, go to b--”

Kankuro’s drunk taunt cuts right off when Temari _does_ launch the bottle, aiming straight for his head. “Don’t _talk_ to me like I’m some stupid little girl!” She roars. 

All three of them jump when the bottle leaves her hand. It’s caught by a quick, reflexive puff of sand. It never gets a chance to hit the wall (or Kankuro.)

“Temari,” Gaara says again, his jaw clenched. “Go to bed. Please.” _You’re making it worse,_ he wants to say. _Please stay out of this._

“I’m going,” Temari says bitterly, wiping stray tears from under her eyes. She glares back at Kankuro. “Who even are you right now?” She asks incredulously, shaking her head. 

“Shut up,” is what Kankuro replies. 

Temari purses her lips, nodding. “I’ll remember that,” she says. She turns to leave. 

“What’re you gonna say, huh?” Kankuro asks, when it’s just him and Gaara left in his bedroom.

“I’m not saying anything,” replies Gaara flatly. “I just want to make sure you make it to bed.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kankuro motions to his bedroom, where he’s still standing. 

“I want to make sure you don’t pass out on the floor.”

“‘N what if I do?”

“Kankuro,” Gaara pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. The sparse hours of sleep he’s received over these last few weeks aren’t helping. “Please just go to bed.”

It takes twenty minutes for Gaara to convince Kankuro to get in bed, and that’s without making him change or brush his teeth. When Gaara closes the door behind him and walks into the long hallway of the Kazekage house, he’s startled by Temari sitting right outside. 

She’s not okay. 

She hasn’t been throughout all of this, he knows, but it’s now that she finally finds herself sitting curled up outside the door, head buried in her knees. Her shoulders are shaking, and Gaara is so, so bad at this. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Temari hiccups, “Gaara, I- he’s getting so bad--”

Gaara takes a seat about a foot away, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall. “It’s simple,” he says, “he stops drinking. That, and--”

“That’s not just that simple, Gaara, you _know_ this is what he does--”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Gaara says, rather thoughtfully. “I sent for Kiba two days ago. If he makes good time-- I’m assuming he moves quickly-- he’ll be turning up sometime soon. That is, if he chooses to come.”

 _“_ You just think sending for Kiba means he’s coming? That Tsunade will let him go? And that it’ll just- magically fix everything? Temari scoffs. “That’s your solution?”

 _“_ I never said Kiba would fix everything. I’m not that naive,” says Gaara, and puts an awkward, tentative hand on Temari’s shoulder in support. “I just believe that he would help.”

_~~~~~~~~_

Somehow, it was predictable to Kiba that instead of receiving a letter from Kankuro as promised, he’d been left in the dark for three weeks. That, and then he’d received one from Gaara, which had come from a Sunagakure hawk so fancy Akamaru had barked at it for ten straight minutes while Kiba read the letter it carried. 

_Kankuro is alright,_ one line had read, _but I think he’d like to see you._

A sense of urgency bleeds through the rest of the message Gaara sends, because he also mentions Kankuro being _mildly indisposed due to an impromptu coup d’etat._ And now, Kiba has the same letter in his pocket that very next morning while he’s stopping to pant at the Suna village gates, shaking the sand out of his pants and shrugging off his jacket. It’s early in the morning, maybe seven. The sun is barely starting to rise, so the heat is starting, too. He and Akamaru are naturally quick, having shaved a day off the journey, but their pace is always rather rigorous. They need a moment. 

Kiba has only been to the sand a select number of times, his most memorable being the second round of exams. It’s exactly how he remembers it, with the exception of intense security at the gates. He shows the seal of the Kazekage letter to the guards that stop him, and they call for Baki, who takes Kiba over to the manor. 

He’s still confused. 

“It’s best that I have Gaara explain to you,” says Baki when Kiba asks _just what the hell is going on,_ because Gaara’s letter was unnecessarily (and characteristically) vague. 

“Are they even awake?” Kiba asks wearily when they approach the Kazekage house. He can distinctly sense all three of the siblings’ chakra. 

“At the very least, Gaara will be,” Baki says, rapping at the door. As if by mention, Gaara is right behind it. 

“Kiba,” Gaara says simply, and nods at Akamaru, “Akamaru. I thought we’d be expecting you soon. Come in.”

Baki nods at Gaara and then moves aside to head back into the village as Kiba cautiously steps into the sand siblings’ house- manor- palace- apartment? All he knows is it’s bigger than anything he’s ever seen. 

Kiba has never seen Gaara in anything but battle clothes and Kazekage robes, and he seems incredibly underdressed wearing a lounge shirt and pants. He’s at home, after all, but it’s still weird. 

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” he says finally, “because you sending me a letter is freaky. And I’m freaked out.”

“I apologize for… the freak-out,” Gaara says slowly, closing the door behind him, “I just wasn’t quite sure what else to do.”

Kiba shakes his head. “Where’s Kankuro, then? You said he was fine? But ‘indisposed?’ He never _wrote,_ it’s been almost a month, I’m fuckin’- nervous--”

“He was almost assassinated,” Gaara says simply, “and he’s not doing very well.”

Kiba is close to a panic by the time Gaara explains the rest of the events that had occurred.

“Is he _okay?!_ Are you fuckin’ with me? Where is h--”

“He’s passed out drunk. He has been since early last night.”

Kiba is lightheaded and he doesn’t know if it’s from the walk, culture shock, or the sudden onslaught of information. Next to him, Akamaru lets out a noise of concern, beginning to sniff the air and already heading towards the hallway.

Kiba closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he nods gruffly. He breathes in again, offers another “okay” to calm himself down, and then looks at Gaara. “Did you sleep at all?” He asks.

“Why does that--”

“‘Cause I got it from here,” Kiba says confidently, nodding firmly. “You and Temari both. Don’t- don’t worry about it. Go to bed.”

Gaara blinks back at him owlishly. This might be the longest, most impressive conversation he’s ever had with Kiba. “Are you… going to wake him up?” He asks. 

“You ever tried to wake him up from anything?” Kiba asks, laughing quietly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Akamaru stops by the hallway, looking to Kiba for permission. Kiba just nods, and Akamaru disappears down it, presumably heading for Kankuro’s room. 

Gaara doesn’t know a whole lot about dogs, but he knows that when they have a problem, they get right to solving it. He watches, almost dumbfounded as Akamaru slips into Kankuro’s room while Kiba is completely unphased. 

Instead, Kiba goes to their kitchen as if he hasn’t just gotten here, beginning to close cupboards Kankuro had left open in a drunken stupor, tidying up a mess that only his boyfriend could have stumbled and created. 

“You don’t have to--”

“Go to bed,” Kiba waves his hand dismissively. “You let me take care of him, alright?” His words are more confident than he is- Gaara can sense it- but he can’t help being amazed. _Is this what you do when you love somebody?_

Down the hallway, Akamaru has already poked his nose into Kankuro’s bedroom. He’s fast asleep, sprawled out on his back and snoring drunkenly. 

It’s often said that dogs not only sense when someone is hurting, but they know where, too. And maybe that’s why when Akamaru climbs up on the bed and curls up next to him, he rests his head on Kankuro’s chest, right up against his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh i bet yall didnt see Kiba comin back but that's what we do for people we love- we're there for em (even if they live 3 days away.)  
> come say hey on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)


	16. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! It's 4 AM here. Perfect timing to drop a chapter on you all.  
> TW for vomiting, depression
> 
> also just for shits and gigs? Kiba's growing his hair out to blank period Kiba. Because it's my fanfiction and time doesn't exist.

Of course there’s no chance that Gaara sleeps, especially not when he’s this much of a control freak and this stressed to boot. He’s naively unaware that Kiba can sense his emotions just like a dog can, and that’s why he suddenly takes the lead. He wants to take the burden off of Gaara. 

Gaara watches him curiously, eventually coming to join him in the kitchen. Silently, he dries the wet dishes that Kiba puts off to the side. They aren’t really talking. 

Later, Kiba will probably confess that he’s only saving face. He’s following everything he’s ever seen his mom do when she’s taking care of somebody- because nobody does it like her. He remembers coming back from countless missions in terrible shape and being lucky enough to have his mother home when she wasn’t on duty. On multiple occasions he would say _Mom, I’m an adult- it’s really okay. I can take care of myself._

_I don’t care how old you are,_ Tsume had responded. _When the people you love need help, you help them. That’s just it._

And this is what he tells himself, while he finds himself in the middle of the Sand siblings’ kitchen at sunrise. With Gaara, who before their interaction in Konoha had never really paid much attention to Kiba at all. Kiba has never been one to let awkwardness hang in the air, but this is new to him. And even though he won’t admit it, he’s nervous. 

“I think he just needs someone to talk with,” Gaara says finally, the towel in his hand squeaking against the plate he’s so focused on drying. “Kankuro, I mean.”

“What did he do when _you_ tried to talk to him?” Kiba asks. It’s not that he’s offended or concerned by Gaara sending for him. Actually, he’s kind of flattered. But he finds it hard to believe that he’s the one person in the world Kankuro wants to talk to right now. He hadn’t even sent him one letter. 

“We fought,” Gaara says simply. “He was angry.”

“About what?” Kiba asks quietly. Before Gaara can answer, he puts down the sudsy plate he’s holding. He can’t think straight. “What- what’s up with this drinking stuff, man? Because we didn’t really talk about it. And I didn’t really see it. And it--” he frowns, “It freaks me out.”

Gaara doesn’t really know how to answer, and it shows in his face. There’s only so much of this that’s his to tell, anyway. “When Kankuro doesn’t want to talk, he drinks. I think that’s the only way I know how to explain it.”

“I drank with him. Multiple times. And he was fine.”

“Kankuro is fine in front of others,” Gaara says, “it’s when he’s by himself.”

Kiba nods slowly. Somehow, he feels this is his fault. How can he be in love with somebody and so lost on what makes them tick? “What were you fighting about, then?” He asks again, this time actually giving Gaara room to respond. 

“Nothing in particular,” Gaara says honestly. “He was upset. I was there. I took the brunt of it.” 

Kiba busies himself with scrubbing another plate. “You think he’ll remember it tomorrow?”

“Hardly.”

“Will you?”

“I’ll choose to forget it,” says Gaara, drying the last of the plates. “There’s a spare bedroom down the main hallway if you’d like it. I set it up just in case. You’re not required to force yourself to sleep in Kankuro’s room.”

Kiba opens his mouth to counter Gaara’s statement, but supposes he should just take this awkwardly shrouded pleasantry. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Temari is asleep. Her room is on the other side. Mine is at the end of the hall. We’ll both be up within the hour, but don’t hesitate to ask us if you need anything.”

Kiba nods again. 

“...what else? Mm. I don’t know,” Gaara says tiredly, and he looks starkly different from the primly pressed Kazekage that Kiba always sees. Here, he looks like a normal guy. Kiba doesn’t think he’s ever even seen him yawn, but Gaara does. His eyes water with it a little bit, and he blinks sleepily. “Thank you for coming,” he adds. 

“‘Course I came,” Kiba says. Watching Gaara makes him realize that he hasn’t slept all night, either, had finished the walk in lieu of camping another night. But he doesn’t feel too keen on going to bed just yet. 

“Kankuro is lucky to have you,” says Gaara as he turns to make his way out of the kitchen. “As are we.”

Gaara slinks down the hallway, as the sunlight starts to pour in through the windows. The sunrise in the Sand is gorgeous, but Kiba doesn’t feel like he can properly appreciate it. 

He leans against the now clean kitchen counter with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. He takes his headband off- it’s starting to make his head ache- and combs his hand over his hair fully now. It’s getting long.

The only thing Kiba knows how to do is distract himself, and he hoped that maybe tidying up would be something he could help with, but past the kitchen there’s really not that much to do. Now all there is is the undeniable- going to check on Kankuro. 

If he’s really honest, he doesn’t want to. It’s not that he fears seeing Kankuro at his worst, it’s that he’s worried he won’t be enough to fix it. And Kiba revels in being that person for everyone, wants to be able to be the rock with a smile and a hug for every moment. What happens when Kankuro needs more than that? What happens when Kiba isn’t the right fix for him? And is he supposed to be?

In a way, Kiba also feels like he’s intruding. Kankuro hadn’t asked for him to come. For all Kiba knows, Kankuro might not want anything to do with him at all. It’s an extremely plausible cause for the lack of letters- but Gaara wouldn’t have sent for him if that were the case, right? Right?

What’s he supposed to do, anyway? Creep into Kankuro’s room while he’s sleeping and give him a heart attack? He’ll leave that to Akamaru instead. It’s the strangest feeling, having Kankuro a room away and to feel as if he shouldn’t go see him. 

But he also can’t camp in the kitchen. It’s weird, this is _weird,_ and he’s so nervous--

A sudden flicker of chakra in the next room pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s Akamaru’s, no doubt, and by the surge of it he must be happy.

And Kiba’s right. He’s over the moon, because Kankuro’s just woken up, and Akamaru could care less for the way Kankuro is staring at him in disbelief because he’s too busy licking his face and saying _hello, hello, I’m so glad you’re okay._

Kankuro can barely see straight with the headache that pounds the inside of his skull, and out of nowhere _Akamaru_ is here and he doesn’t know if he’s still drunk or not. 

“Why are you here?” He whispers bleakly, his hand coming behind Akamaru’s ear and scratching mechanically. Naturally, he doesn’t receive an answer. 

**TRACK 8: COMFORT CROWD - CONAN GRAY**

He’s not drunk, he deduces, because he has to wrench Akamaru’s weight off of him to suddenly lumber out of bed and go throw up. This happens to him more often than he’d like with dark liquor and the unholy amount of whiskey he’d consumed yesterday evening comes right back up this morning.

It’s the kind of hangover where Kankuro can’t lift his head from the toilet, the kind where he’s leaning on his elbows and wishing to sleep the day away, where his head hurts so bad he thinks standing up might make him fall right back over again. 

But his heart is also racing because there’s a giant white dog in his bedroom. And Akamaru doesn’t go anywhere by himself. So he’s struggling to put two and two together in his stupid little drunk brain, wishing he had some sort of sensory abilities so he could spoil whatever weird surprise this is for himself. 

However, his thought process halts when he has to stick his head in the toilet again. It’s starting to get embarrassing, whatever this is. It always was, but now more than ever. With a sinking feeling, Kankuro thinks he knows why Akamaru is here. And if he’s right, then he has a lot of explaining to do. 

If Kankuro wasn’t so busy watching his guts hit the inside of the toilet, he’d be able to hear the knock on the outside of the door. “What?” He asks irritably. His arm just barely moves to flush the toilet, and he lets his head rest on the edge of the seat because he can’t lift it up.

“You okay?” Undeniably, that’s Kiba’s voice. And the first time they saw each other after saying goodbye wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Kankuro doesn’t even know what to say. He can feel the back of his neck starting to burn red with something like shame, and he doesn’t even bother to open his eyes because he knows all he’ll see is the inside of the goddamn toilet. “Yeah,” he says eventually, hoarsely. 

The doorknob clicks apprehensively, but upon realizing that it’s not locked, Kiba lets himself in. 

Kankuro won’t look at him. 

“You gonna keep your head stuck in the toilet?” Kiba asks, closing the door behind him and then leaning against it. He crosses his arms. 

Kankuro bites his tongue. Something that he would snap at Gaara with is something that he won’t fire back at Kiba. He can’t. “I look like shit,” he mumbles instead. 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do,” Kiba agrees. On any other occasion, Kankuro would laugh. Kiba is the most honest person he knows (with the exception of Gaara.)

He’s not wrong, though. Kankuro is covered in bruises that still haven’t healed. His hair is messy with sleep but also sticks up with grease, and Kiba wonders about the last time he showered. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that have a hole in the thigh, and if Kiba weren’t so preoccupied, he’d be hunting to catch a glimpse of Kankuro’s tattoo in it. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m still mad at you. And we have a lot to talk about. And--” Kiba stops yammering his ill-prepared speech when Kankuro lifts his head up and turns to face him, and Kiba sees that damn _scar._

“Kankuro,” Kiba says, his voice hollow, “did you do that?” He feels lost in being able to predict what Kankuro would and wouldn’t do. 

“You think I slit my own fuckin’ throat?!” Kankuro snaps. 

The good thing about this outburst is that Kiba can tell he’s not lying. The bad thing is that it hurts even worse for Kiba to realize that no, he doesn’t know Kankuro as well as he thinks he does. “I was just asking,” Kiba stammers. He can’t take his eyes off of it. This must have been the assassination attempt that Gaara was talking about. 

Kiba straightens his shoulders. “Maybe if you told me what was going on I wouldn’t have to ask, huh? Maybe if you wrote one goddamn letter, I wouldn’t be running around the desert like an idiot because your _brother_ sent for me--”

“ _Gaara_ sent for you?!”

“Yeah! Yeah, he did, because he’s worried fuckin’ sick and won’t admit it. I get here at seven AM and they’re tellin’ me that you were so damn drunk you passed right out and I couldn’t even _talk_ to you. About a- about a drinking problem that you never even had the balls to talk to me about. What the hell, Kankuro? What--”

Kiba’s _livid._ Not only can Kankuro feel the flicker of his chakra- which is hard to do because Kankuro’s sensory abilities are feeble at best- he can see it in his eyes. They’re starting to get darker, the slits narrowing. Kiba’s so mad that his teeth suddenly look sharper and it’s all Kankuro’s fault. 

“--you weren’t supposed to see all this shit,” Kankuro cuts in. 

“Oh, so does that mean it didn’t happen? I sit around for a month waiting for you to tell me you’re not in jail, or dead, or something, and it turns out you’re just pounding shots back after you _said you were done--”_

“I’m _sorry!”_ More than anything, Kankuro wishes everyone would stop yelling at him. He knows he deserves it, probably deserves worse, but he can’t handle it. He just can’t. 

But all he can do is sit here like an idiot on the bathroom floor and take it, because he hurt Kiba, and that’s the last thing he ever intended to do. Kiba gets to be mad. 

“What’s going _on_ with you?” Kiba asks, after Kankuro’s yell pierces the air and leaves silence hanging between them. “Whatever _this_ is… isn’t you, Kankuro. And I know it.”

Kankuro’s jaw hardens, and he looks away from Kiba. “I’m sorry, okay?” What else can he say? What does Kiba _want_ him to say? And what does Kankuro have to say to feel worthy of Kiba giving him _anything_ besides him standing four feet away with his arms crossed?

“Don’t just tell me shit that you think I wanna hear,” Kiba sighs. With his head tilted down, his hair falls in his face, and he pulls it back into a ponytail that sits at the top of his head. Ino had done it the other day out of humor, and he actually quite likes it. If Kankuro were any measure of sane right now he’d be complimenting it.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, then,” Kankuro says, and he moves to sit with his back against the cupboards that stand under the sink. One of his knees is tucked up to his chest, the one closest to Kiba. 

Kiba takes one step, then two, then three. They bring him over to Kankuro, where Kiba slides down against the cupboards, too. 

Kiba can hear Kankuro’s heartbeat speed up the way it always does when he gets too close, and can feel the rising temperature of his skin. It’s usually endearing. Kiba wonders if today he’s just nervous. He doesn’t say anything, just winds his arm around Kankuro’s shoulders and pulls him into his side. 

“I’m gonna ask you again,” Kiba murmurs. His eyes are softer now. “You okay?”

Kankuro waits one second, then two, then three. And on the fourth, he presses his face into Kiba’s neck and squeezes his eyes shut so tight he wonders if they’ll open again. “No,” he confesses raggedly.

Kankuro’s shoulders that are usually so big and broad and ready to carry whatever you’ll give them are shaking then, feeling impossibly small under Kiba’s arm. “I can’t get outta bed anymore,” he says, “and I don’t ever wanna do anything. And every time I talk, I sound like an ass. I haven’t been to work since I got back. I don’t even wanna go, Kiba, they’re gonna look at me like I’m some fuckin’ _freak--”_

_“You are not a freak--”_

“I am. This whole thing. This whole thing started because of me. And god, Kiba, you should’ve seen how they got me in two seconds. _Two fucking_ seconds. And I had to watch Temari protect me when she should never have to do that,” Kankuro rambles, “and I really thought I was gonna die, man, I thought…”

There’s so much more he wants to say. _I thought I would be leaving everyone behind. I thought my siblings would have to wash my blood out of their clothes. I thought they might die for me. I thought I might never see you again._

“None of that shit is your fault. None of it,” Kiba says, and he wonders if Kankuro believes him.

Their position is clumsy. Kiba is only so big, and Kankuro’s shoulders take up space. He pulls Kankuro in closer so that he can wind both of his arms around him. It doesn’t matter if it’s uncomfortable. He just wants to hold him. Knows that he needs it. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t send you a letter,” Kankuro continues, his voice muffled against the netting of Kiba’s undershirt. Kiba’s heavy coat is draped across a chair in the kitchen. There’s absolutely no use for it here, and he hadn’t thought ahead. “I was working on it and I didn’t know what the fuck to say, and I’m _so_ fucking sorry…”

Kiba doesn’t know Kankuro to be an emotional person. Nobody really does. So all Kiba does when Kankuro collapses against him, sobbing so _exhaustedly_ is just hold him. 

“It’s okay,” Kiba murmurs, his hand moving soothingly over Kankuro’s back. “Baby, it’s okay.”

It’s been a long fuckin’ while since Kankuro was anyone’s baby in the slightest. 

How did he get so lucky, to have someone willing to hold him while he still smells like alcohol from the night before? Who does Kiba think he is, suddenly bearing all of this weight like he’s meant to?

“I got home and I can’t stop fucking up. I can’t stop. You shouldn’t have had to come. You should’ve been able to trust me.”

“I didn’t come because I had to. I came because I wanted to. That’s what you do,” Kiba says gently, “for people who are important to you.”

“I don’t deserve a fuckin’ Jonin ranking. Two seconds and I let some motherfucker slit- slit my throat and I- let ‘em use my own shit against me, you ever been poisoned? You ever just sit there and feel yourself _dying?_ You--”

Kankuro is more than worked up now, hiccuping and stuttering and letting everything he’s been holding out against Kiba’s chest, while Kiba closes his eyes and wills himself to absorb it in hopes of maybe taking it away.

“You are not weak,” he says firmly. “You are not stupid. And you did not deserve anything that happened to you.”

“I feel like- I feel like an idiot,” Kankuro sniffs. In all this time, he hasn’t brought his head up to look at Kiba. Kiba knows it’s because he would rather disintegrate than have Kiba see him crying. 

“You’re not an idiot.” Kiba leans down, resting his head atop Kankuro’s, giving him a proper squeeze. “You’re so smart. Clever. Brilliant.”

He lifts one arm to let his fingers card through Kankuro’s hair, which is sticking together in some places. It clearly hasn’t been washed in a few days. “So fuckin’ priceless, you are.”

Kankuro shifts then. His knees tuck up, and Kiba loosens his grip on him to watch where he moves. 

With a shuddery breath out, Kankuro lays on his side with his head in Kiba’s lap, facing away from him, though a hand rests on one of Kiba’s crossed legs. 

Kiba lets his hand fall to Kankuro’s hair again, giving those same soothing scratches with his nails. His other hand rests on Kankuro’s bicep. 

Every now and then, Kankuro’s body will jump with an unprecedented breath or hiccup. He’ll sniffle. He’ll cough. But he doesn’t say anything, just wants to wallow in the feeling of being listened to for a moment, of remembering that Kiba thinks he’s priceless even when he’s curled up on the bathroom floor in his underwear. 

“I love- I love you.” Kankuro’s jerky, tear-soaked voice breaks the silence. 

Kiba hums in agreement. “I love ya. To the end of the earth ‘n back. Then another time around.”

They sit like this while the silence hangs around them like a blanket, draping itself over both of their shoulders and intertwining their breaths. It’s not awkward or stiff. Instead, it’s peaceful and warm, the pulsing heartbeat of _I’m here_ and _I know._

Kiba almost wonders if Kankuro’s fallen asleep as his breaths begin to steady, but he shifts after a while. His sniffles have subsided, and his shoulders have stopped shaking so much. 

“Why don’t we take a shower?” Kiba asks, voice soft as he brushes a tuft of hair behind Kankuro’s ear. “You and me? I need one too. I’ve been running like a madman--”

“I don’t wanna,” Kankuro mumbles. 

**TRACK 9 - NO JUDGEMENT - NIALL HORAN**

“Mm. Me either. But we gotta,” Kankuro tweaks Kankuro’s ear gently, playfully, his thumb running over the little silver hoop that he has through his earlobe. 

“I look fat today,” Kankuro says dully. 

Weeks in bed hasn’t exactly helped the belly that he’s been so worried about these last few months. No matter how hard he trains, it hasn’t seemed to start going away. 

“I think you look handsome all the time,” Kiba laughs gently. “You’re not fat.”

Kankuro doesn’t answer. He’s digging for another excuse not to shower. 

“C’mon,” Kiba pats Kankuro’s arm encouragingly, nudging his leg out from under him so he’ll get up. “Up.”

Kankuro is more than reluctant, sullenly pushing himself up from Kiba’s lap. 

Kiba pulls him up to stand by both his hands, and it’s the first time all morning he’s gotten a good look at him. Tall as ever, Kankuro still stands over him, even when he’s stooped so sadly. 

“God knows you need some soap on ya,” Kiba teases lightly, reaching his hands up to cup Kankuro’s face. He’s even got some patches of stubble on his jaw that Kiba can feel under his fingers. Kankuro shaves maybe once a week at most because he rarely grows much of anything. 

His face is splotched red, with tears drying on his cheeks. The circles around his eyes look like a mellower version of Gaara’s, and his hair sticks up in about twenty different directions. 

But that’s still his Kankuro, isn’t it? Still the same guy Kiba had wished for every night in an empty bed, with the same arms he wanted around him and the same voice he wanted to hear. 

“There’s my guy,” says Kiba. 

Kankuro suddenly pulls him into a hug so tight that Kiba thinks his bones will snap. He exhales with relief he didn’t know he was holding so frantically, his arms finding their way around Kankuro in return. 

He keeps it brief, though. “Shower first,” he insists, squirming in Kankuro’s grip. “Then all the hugs you want.”

For the first time Kankuro breaks into a smile, nodding as he pulls away. “Deal.”

Kiba’s eyes linger on him a moment longer, trailing down to the angry red line just in the middle of his throat. He tears them away from it, ignoring the hot anger that pools under his skin when he looks at it. 

Instead, he focuses on pulling his shirt over his head, tugging the little hair tie out of his hair. It hangs just above his ears and frames his face. Two sets of pants hit the ground, and then Kankuro has the energy to turn on the water. 

“The hot water’s only gonna run for ten minutes,” Kankuro feels the need to explain, “rations, and stuff.”

“Who says we’ll need more than that?” Kiba grunts. He steps in, and Kankuro follows. The shower is small, with just enough space for both of them to stand in it. They’re practically pressed together. It’s not really made for two people, evidently. 

“Rinse your mouth out,” Kiba says, while he reaches for a bottle of what looks like shampoo. He’s disgruntled to find that it’s 3-in-1. Of course. 

“What?”

“You heard me, pukey. Rinse and spit.”

“Why--”

“‘Cause I wanna fuckin’ kiss you, and you just barfed,” Kiba retorts. “Sue me.”

It’s oddly intimate, how when Kankuro spits out shower water it sort of lands on Kiba’s arm and he doesn’t even mind. As soon as it’s done, Kiba doesn’t have a chance to go for the kiss he wanted. 

Kankuro beats him to it, cupping Kiba’s cheek with one hand and leaning down to kiss him. Kiba tastes like toothpaste from this morning and the blunt tang of Sunagakure water that never tastes quite right. 

With each kiss that follows their predicament deepens without either of them trying- over a month apart hasn’t done them any good- and Kankuro has his free hand braced on the shower wall behind Kiba for balance while their breaths grow heavier and their lips get sloppier. 

Kiba has to push him away, breathless and red in the face, a fanged grin on his lips. “You said ten minutes. Still gotta do the actual shower part.”

“It’s more like eight now,” Kankuro says. He clearly doesn’t care in the slightest, and leans in for another one, but Kiba dodges playfully and waves the bottle of 3-in-1. 

Instead of squirting it onto his hand, Kiba stands on his toes to put a _sploosh_ of it right on top of Kankuro’s head, and tugs him down by the hair. “You’re greasy. No fuckin’.”

Kankuro makes a noise of complaint, tipping his head down so that Kiba can stand comfortably and wash it. “This isn’t sexy,” he grumbles, although it does feel _nice,_ to have Kiba’s hands on him like this. They’re small and careful. 

“Seven minutes of sexy with you just isn’t enough for me,” Kiba offers with a laugh. He tilts Kankuro’s head back up with his hands, “rinse.”

Kankuro is big and clumsy, somehow getting soap in his mouth and his eyes and every possible place that Kiba tells him to _close,_ while he rinses the abominable 3-in-1 out of his hair. But Kiba gets him to laugh, after the horrendous morning he’s just had, and that’s more than enough. 

Kankuro is insistent on washing Kiba’s hair in return, even though Kiba can feel him doing a shitty job. “It got long,” Kankuro hums observantly. “I liked the bun thing you had going on.”

“It was Ino’s idea,” Kiba says, tipping his head back with closed eyes. His back is pressed against Kankuro’s front. The soap in his hair smudges against Kankuro’s collarbone. 

“Looks cute,” says Kankuro, and resists the urge to pull him into another deep kiss. 

By this point, they’ve got another two or three minutes, and they finish just as the water starts to run weak and cold. Kiba shivers when they pull the shower door open, and shakes his hair out the same way Akamaru would his fur. 

Kankuro tweaks his ear. “Cut that out.”

“Cut what out?”

Kankuro just laughs, “Never mind. You’re a fuckin’ dog, is all.”

Kiba hums out a laugh in return, a lazy grin on his face. “No arguments,” he says, taking a towel that Kankuro hands to him. After drying off, it hangs low on his waist, and Kankuro wants to drown in the dimples of his back.

“You feelin’ a little bit better?” Kiba asks after a minute, turning around to face him. 

Kankuro is bashful, shrugging his shoulders. He feels a lot better. “A little.”

Kiba nods, momentarily distracted with both of their reflections in the mirror when he turns back. “Good,” he says, watching in the mirror as Kankuro’s arms wrap around him from behind. “You’re handsome.”

“You’re a big liar,” Kankuro says, kissing the top of his head. 

“I never lie,” says Kiba. He turns slightly, patting Kankuro’s stomach (which has grown, admittedly.) “I like this the best. Makes ya look cute.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. 

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Kankuro snorts, shaking his head. If his cheeks are red, he’ll blame it on the hot shower.

Kiba is distracted again by a little black container sitting on the edge of the counter. There’s a brush next to it, and he grabs it, sniffing the container when he opens it. Excitedly, curiously, he turns to Kankuro when it turns out to be what he was looking for. 

Kankuro raises an eyebrow. 

“Can I?” Kiba asks, already dipping the brush in the purple facepaint. “Do a little on you, I mean?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two are comin to an end soon!!!! I'm so excited to get these last few chapters out. This was honestly one of my favorites to write, though. 
> 
> even with the end of this fic and the (hopefully soon) beginning of the ACEFAD sequel I'll def be doing some oneshots with these two, I think? (if you haven't already I highly recommend subscribing to the series as a whole so you can keep up with everything because I'm a disorganized mess.) So you're more than welcome to leave me a request or a headcanon or something whether it's on here or [on tumblr !](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)
> 
> have a great night :-)


	17. A Fur Coat in the Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 2:30 AM and i did not beta read so im sorry if theres mistakes HKSJFHSKF

“You don’t even know how to do it,” Kankuro rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He hasn’t worn paint in a few weeks. He doesn’t think he has the energy to wear it now. 

“C’mon. Let me,” Kiba whines, setting the paint back down on the counter.“You’re gonna complain that it’s not on when we go out.”

“When we go what?” 

“Out,” Kiba says simply. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kankuro snorts. 

“Yes, you are,” Kiba insists. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Just for a walk. Get some air. Some sun on your face.”

“Can’t we just…” Kankuro searches for an alternative in midair, “...stay here?”

“Nope,” Kiba says stubbornly, “you’re gonna get dressed, and you’re gonna look handsome, and we’re gonna take a walk. That’s what we’re doing.”

“Kiba--”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my own plan. Sounds so fucking fun.”

“Are you--”

“Ah! What’s that?” Kiba cups his ear, leaning closer to Kankuro. “Still can’t hear you!”

Kiba pats Kankuro’s bare chest. “Go get dressed. Can you grab me something to wear, too? My clothes are gross, and my other ones are too warm.” He motions to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. 

There are times when Kiba talks so fast nobody else can get a word in. When he sets his mind to something, it’s generally law. Kankuro knows that if he argues they’ll likely be in this bathroom for another hour, so he saves the grumbling for under his breath as he walks out in a towel to gather something for both of them to wear. 

“I don’t know if the pants will fit you,” Kankuro grunts when he comes back into the bathroom, in a clean pair of underwear and holding a clump of clothes under his arm. “I could probably get something of Gaara’s if they don’t. Or you can tie them. I dunno.” The faded claws of a scorpion poke out from under Kankuro’s boxers.

The clothes are undeniably Sunan and also undeniably Kankuro’s, because they’re two sizes too large and all black. Kiba doesn’t think he’s ever seen him wear a color. Kiba isn’t used to the smooth, light material that he pulls over his arms and ties at his middle. The sleeves swallow his arms up. Presumably Kankuro wanted this to be oversized for him, so on Kiba it looks even bigger. 

The pants don’t fit either, just like Kankuro predicted. They practically drop from Kiba’s hips. If it wasn’t so funny, it would probably make Kankuro grimace at his own size. 

“These are kinda comfy,” Kiba chirps, holding the black pants up around his waist with one hand while he moves around in them. “I see why you like em.”

Kankuro rolls his eyes, “You need a belt. Or something.”

“So find me a belt!” 

“And you’re not wearing that right,” Kankuro laughs, motioning to how Kiba’s tied his shirt. “Jesus. See what you did when you wanted to go out? Don’t even have anything to wear.”

“This is fine!” 

“You look like an idiot.”

“Find me something cooler, then!”

“It’s not my fault you brought a fur coat to the desert,” Kankuro snorts, and swings the bathroom door open. “Come on,” he sighs. 

Kiba nearly yelps, going to push it closed again. “I’m not walkin’ out there half naked in front of your fuckin’ siblings!”

“They’re both at work by now.”

Kiba looks around, sniffing the air. He can’t sense anybody around, so Kankuro must be right. “Fine.”

“As if I’d be that careless,” Kankuro calls behind him. 

He’s actually not quite looking forward to Kiba seeing his room, but he supposes it’s time to rip the bandaid off. It’s not that he doesn’t like his room- Kankuro adores his dark little workshop bedroom. It’s that the past few weeks he’s been the ultimate depressive slob, and he doesn’t exactly want Kiba to see that. 

“Your guys’ house is big,” Kiba marvels, looking around as he follows Kankuro. It’s really not- most of the rooms are unoccupied or used for business. The hallways are unnecessarily long and winding. It’s not remotely interesting or lavish, Kankuro thinks. 

“Half of it is the council space, kind of,” Kankuro explains. “Watch your step.”

“Huh?”

Kankuro’s room is close by, behind a wide door that’s ajar from Akamaru’s visit. There’s a few stairs that lead down to Kankuro’s bedroom, which have already been graced by sandy paws. 

Kankuro’s bedroom isn’t really a cave. It’s more of a shallow basement than anything else, and he likes it that way. It was just never really meant to be a bedroom, not when there are larger, more naturally lit rooms in the manor. But after spending years accidentally falling asleep in his workshop as a child, he’d just ended up making it into his bedroom. The space was large enough after all, and there _are_ windows, no matter what Temari says. Kankuro just likes them covered. The sunrise wakes him up too early. 

“This is your room?” Kiba asks skeptically. It certainly is, because the only scent in here is Kankuro’s. Of course his shy and anxious boyfriend coops himself up in here. It only makes sense. 

“I knew you’d say that,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. “And… don’t mind the mess.”

Kiba hadn’t planned on saying anything about it, even if Kankuro is right. This place _is_ a mess. 

If Kankuro had gotten dressed at all lately, the clothes would end up on the floor where they surrounded his bed. Next to the covered window, his desk is littered with spilled ink, stray puppet parts, and a suspicious letter that he’d never sent. If Kiba touches the wood grain, he’ll feel the stick of dried alcohol that Kankuro had spilled more than once. The workshop table to the side of Kankuro’s bed is in a similar state. He hasn’t done very much work, but it’s somehow still a mess. 

**TRACK 10: TEENAGE DREAM (GLEE CAST VERSION) (ACOUSTIC)**

His bed is unmade, with his CD player ajar near the pillows. As Kiba could have predicted, there’s only one pillow, and it’s flat. He hears his mother’s voice in his head shouting that _all men are the same._ Curled up atop Kankuro’s sheets is Akamaru, whose tail wags when he sees the both of them.

The _pat_ of Kankuro tossing clothes at Kiba interrupts his observation. “See if those fit,” he says, shutting his dresser drawer. “They’re kinda old. Might be smaller.”

To Kiba’s content, the pants he slips on fit him much better. “Can you fix this?” He complains, pulling at the shirt Kankuro had given him. Apparently he’d tied it wrong, and now he’s insecure. 

Kankuro laughs, a throaty _huh_ from across the room, and comes over to Kiba, taking a look at his wardrobe malfunction. “You might wanna wear something under. You gonna be tits out in the middle of the village?” The shirt has a low v-neck dip. 

“Too fruity?”

“Mm. Too fruity,” Kankuro chuckles.

Kiba brings this energy with him everywhere he goes, the kind of lightness that lifts Kankuro right off his feet for a second. Kiba makes him forget about the nervous ache in his gut, or the dull throbbing of his head, or the hangover that he can feel in every inch of his body. 

“Do you have anything that’s not black?” Kiba complains. 

“No.”

“How about red? Or beige? Oh, you’d look nice in beige.”

Kankuro unties Kiba’s shirt, watching as each half of it falls open, exposing his chest and his stomach. Even in the dim light of Kankuro’s room, Kiba is still tan, his skin glowing with amber that only Konoha sun can create. 

Leaning down, Kankuro tips his forehead against Kiba’s. He has to hunch to do so. He hums, closing his eyes. “Do we have to go out? We don’t need clothes if we don’t go out.” His hands move to settle on Kiba’s hips.

Kiba can’t help but smile, and he brings his head down to lay it against Kankuro’s bare chest, only pressing them closer. “Mhmmm. We do.” His hand curls, laying against Kankuro’s chest as well.

Kankuro’s hands move from Kiba’s hips so his arms can wrap fully around him. “I don’t want to,” he admits. 

“You don’t want to get dressed, or you don’t want to go outside?”

“Both.”

Kiba closes his eyes. So much of him wants to give in and spend the afternoon in bed. He still hasn’t slept since arriving, so he’s running on fumes and adrenaline, but his work’s not quite done right now. To give in would be to do Kankuro a disservice. “How about…” his voice trails off as he racks his brain for a compromise. “You put on somethin’ clean. It doesn’t matter what it is. And we go sit outside? We don’t have to go into town. Just sit out there. Get some air. In that nice courtyard.”

Kiba likes to be outside in general. Kankuro doesn’t know why he expected him to crave a morning (or is it afternoon by now?) in his dark bedroom.

“I guess,” Kankuro sighs.

“In that case, fuck this goddamn shirt,” Kiba says. “Just give me, like. A t-shirt.”

“Mmkay,” says Kankuro, but still hasn’t moved. He wants to hold Kiba another moment longer. He cocks his head to chase Kiba’s lips for a kiss, but Kiba pulls away playfully, a finger over Kankuro’s lips. 

“Get dressed first,” he says. He has a feeling that if he lets Kankuro start loving on him, they probably won’t be outside for a few hours.

Kankuro grumbles in response, begrudgingly pulling away. “What kinda shirt you want? Red? Or _beige?”_ He mocks. 

“I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass, I don’t care if you had a rough week,” Kiba retorts.

“I wish you would. I haven’t seen that much action in a while,” Kankuro jokes over his shoulder as he digs through his drawers again. They’re getting sort of empty. He needs to do laundry, he thinks, as he steps over heaps of dirty clothes to get back to Kiba. 

They always fall into this comfortable and lazy back-and-forth. Kiba runs his mouth while Kankuro interjects, and every now and then, Kankuro will get one over on him.

The ease of peaceful conversation and plain human interaction distracts Kankuro from the debilitative nature of putting on a shirt and pants. Clean clothes, at that. Not some that he’s picked up off the floor to go out and wordlessly grunt at his siblings while they eat breakfast. 

His hair has dried by now, sticking up in that messy way that Kiba quickly found out was not from always having his hood on. It’s like Gaara’s. It never lays flat.

“Don’t you look handsome?” Kiba hums as he watches. The shirt he’s wearing comes down over his thighs. 

Kankuro rolls his eyes, but a smile lingers on his lips. 

“Let’s go catch some fuckin’ rays, huh?” Kiba says airily, and he tugs Kankuro behind him, up those godforsaken stairs and out into the hallway. The padding of paws is quick to follow. 

To Kiba, the Kazekage manor is like a maze, but there’s nothing his nose can’t help him navigate. Kankuro doesn’t have to tell him where to turn or what door to choose- he just knows. 

Even when he’s not disgustingly hungover, Kankuro doesn’t really take advantage of their courtyard. It’s mostly been used by Gaara, who likes to tend to the plants that are scattered carefully around the edges, or Temari, who has had many late night talks with Shikamaru here when he visits. 

Besides the pristinely kept courtyard, there’s a training patch of sand past it. That’s mostly the area Kankuro hangs out in, if any. 

Just by judging the position of the sun in the sky Kankuro can tell that it’s maybe nine or ten in the morning. Still early, but late enough that the heat is starting to bear down on them. 

Kiba, always one to complain about the heat, drags them straight to a patch of sun. They sit right there on the courtyard steps, while Akamaru stretches out on a patch of smooth concrete next to them, glowing absolutely white in the morning sun. 

The air is dry and warm, and the sun feels good on Kankuro’s skin even though it’s hot. Considering he’s fresh out of the shower and hasn’t been out in a while, he won’t be surprised if he comes inside with a red stripe of sunburn across his nose. 

“Oh, man. It’s nice out here,” Kiba sighs, placing his hands behind him to keep himself upright. He sticks out those hairy legs of his, crossing them at the ankles. His feet are bare still, with both of them having foregone shoes, and he wiggles his toes. 

In the light now, if Kankuro looks over at him, he can see how tired he is. Kiba’s eyelids droop every few seconds, and he looks grateful for the rest. Kankuro can see stubble growing in from the past few days Kiba had been traveling, covering his jaw and chin. 

“You’re crazy,” Kankuro mumbles, shaking his head.

Kiba raises a thin eyebrow. “For thinkin’ it’s nice out? Sue me, Christ.”

“No,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. “For coming here, I meant.”

“Mm.” Kiba nods, inhales slowly. “Call me fuckin’ insane, whatever. I just love ya.” Kiba has the power to say anything absolutely anywhere and _dare_ someone to say something about it. 

Kankuro tucks one knee up on the steps, with the other leg out next to Kiba’s. His leg stretches past the top of Kiba’s foot. “I don’t want you feeling like you have to… drop your whole life for me.”

“And I don’t want you feelin’ like it’s crazy that you might be important to someone.”

Kankuro doesn’t answer right away. “I just don’t want people worrying about me. I can worry about me.”

“Kankuro,” Kiba starts. His eyes are momentarily closed, whether through relaxation or a craving for rest, “it’s okay to need other people sometimes. Or to want them. I’d rather drag my ass here anytime than have you… fuckin’ around on the bottle. Being there for you isn’t a _chore_ for me.”

Kankuro is still embarrassed about _fuckin’ around on the bottle._ “I’m sorry for… not being honest with you. About- about drinking. Stuff like that. It wasn’t ever really this bad. I’ve never… I don’t even know what I did last night, Kiba. I don’t remember it. And I don’t like to get like that,” he shakes his head. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Gaara said you got in a fight.”

“‘Cause he fucking- makes me mad sometimes. He walks in and just acts like he knows everything. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t know shit.”

“He knew to try and send for me,” Kiba points out. “You put too much past that guy.”

“Since when are you friends with my brother?” Kankuro snorts. 

“We’ve been talkin.’”

Kankuro resists the urge to scoff. “He keeps asking when I’m coming back to work,” Kankuro says, “and I… don’t want to.”

“Didn’t he…” Kiba chooses his words carefully, “reconstruct the council?”

“They’re working on it,” Kankuro says. “I just hate politics. I fucking- _God,_ I hate that shit. A bunch of idiots sitting in a room and acting like they know something.”

“Pretty spot on.”

“Who even wants to listen to me on the Council, anyway? I’m nothing here anymore,” Kankuro shrugs. “It doesn’t matter how many people Gaara fires, you know. I’m still gonna be the Kazekage’s gay brother. And I’m gonna be the guy that almost got killed in two in a half seconds. By some nobodies. I used to be- I don’t know. People used to be scared of me. And now I’m a _joke._ ”

There’s the reason Kiba’s been searching for all morning. He stays quiet. He wants Kankuro to feel like he can talk. 

“...you know they talked about me leading a company? In the war? They’re already planning for it. There’s a summit in a few weeks. Shit is getting crazy, and I’m here being absolutely fucking useless. There’s no chance they’ll want me to lead anything now. Because everyone thinks I’m an idiot and a drunk. And I kiss guys on the mouth. Yeah, I fucking do that, too.”

“Kankuro,” Kiba says, “I don’t know who the hell you think is saying that. You think they’d be asking you to come back to work if they thought you were weak and stupid? You think anybody would care?”

Kankuro doesn’t answer.

“And do you think you somehow lose part of being a man if you kiss a goddamn guy? Cause I’ll tell ya, you fuckin’ don’t.”

“I feel like I do,” Kankuro says, and he doesn’t meet Kiba’s eyes. It’s offensive, what he’s saying. And he puts it right in the air between them like Kiba is just supposed to absorb it. 

“Shut the fuck up,” is what Kiba says, and rolls his eyes before he can hold himself back. Restraint has never been one of his strong suits, and certainly not when he’s annoyed. “Really. God. Shut up. Look at you. _Look at you.”_

“I’m not trying to be- _homophobic-_ or whatever, I--”

“I’m sayin’ look at yourself! You feel weak? You feel different? You’ve been the same guy your whole goddamn life. Nothing changed. Nothing changed except that you let yourself be who _you were supposed to be,”_ Kiba says fiercely. “Not who your dad was. Not who your brother is. You.”

Kankuro still hasn’t made eye contact with Kiba. Truthfully, he’s embarrassed of himself again. Again. Again, because he can’t say anything right. “I--”

“You are the way you are _fuckin’ supposed to be,_ ” says Kiba, and he jabs his finger at Kankuro’s chest to make this point. “And that’s _enough._ I love you that way. Your siblings love you that way. Your friends love you that way. You don’t have to impress anybody. You already do.”

Wordlessly, Kankuro shifts closer to him. He doesn’t really know what to say at times like this when Kiba is so effortlessly kind, when he brings so much light that Kankuro is blinded by it. It’s always been hard for him to say _I love you,_ and he does by leaning his head on Kiba’s shoulder. 

Kiba understands, responds with his hand coming around to hold the side of Kankuro’s head, fingers gentle in his hair. “You hear me? You just focus on getting better. You don’t have anything else to prove.”

They sit like this until Akamaru starts to pant in the heat and Kankuro feels the sting of a sunburn starting to poke at his skin. With the chore of _fresh air_ being finished, Kankuro gets to go inside for a hangover nap. He also gets to take Kiba with him, and that’s the hidden joy in it all. 

Kiba lets himself ignore the pigsty that is Kankuro’s room because he’s so exhausted. It’s a project they’ll conquer later, he decides, as he lets Kankuro’s shirt join the others on the floor and climbs into his bed. 

It smells like him, overwhelmingly so, and Kiba finds comfort in the dip of the bed next to him as Kankuro joins him on the other side. Now that he’s sunk into the mattress, Kiba can feel how his body hurts from traveling, and just how tired he really is. 

Kankuro turns to face him, caught up in the reality of Kiba even being this close to him. “You in any pain from the walk here?” He asks gently, his hand absentmindedly on Kiba’s chest. 

Kiba shakes his head. “Nah. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kankuro kisses the tip of his shoulder. “You sure?”

Kiba turns his head from where he’s laying on his back, a fond smile on his lips. A stray tooth hangs over his lip the way it always does. “I’m okay,” he says, and reaches out a hand to clumsily cup Kankuro’s face. “C’mere.”

The invitation is the one Kankuro’s been waiting for just about all morning, to take advantage of being alone together. It’s warmly self indulgent, with the weight of Kiba’s hand over his jaw as he finally gets to hover and kiss him the way he’s wanted to all day.

Kiba’s hand easily finds its way to the back of Kankuro’s head, nestled in messy brown hair as their lips press together. The bed dips once more as Kankuro moves his arm to Kiba’s opposite side, putting his weight on his elbow. 

Kiba sighs into Kankuro’s mouth, unintentional yet telling, and loops his arms around his neck to press him close. Their bare chests are nearly together, now, while their lips slot together over and over again, finding a haphazard rhythm that leads to them both breathing heavier than they had a minute or two ago. 

“Didja close your door?” Kiba whispers breathlessly, while Kankuro’s lips are hot on his jaw. 

“Dunno,” is all Kankuro responds as he finds one of his favorite spots right under Kiba’s jaw that swells into the curve of his neck, pressing a kiss there and then moving to the column of Kiba’s throat.

“But what if--” Kiba loses his train of thought as Kankuro gently sucks on his neck, just barely enough to leave a mark.

“Then we’ll just be quiet,” Kankuro murmurs, following his trail of kisses back up to Kiba’s mouth, kissing him deeply again. 

Kiba’s hands are starting to grip differently at his shoulders and his hair, the kind that say _closer_ and _more_ while Kankuro’s knee moves between his legs. 

“ _Fuck,_ I missed y--” Kiba speaks against Kankuro’s lips and then freezes, dark eyes wide. 

“What’s wro--”

“Your brother’s home,” Kiba breathes. 

“God- so?” Kankuro huffs, and leans down again, but Kiba’s hand pushes him back. 

“No, like- the top of the--”

A knock sounds at the door and Kankuro groans so loud that Gaara can certainly hear. “What? Fucking hell. What?”

“Are you decent?” Gaara’s voice is flat and muffled outside the door.

“No,” Kankuro drawls, and Kiba smacks him.

“Can you get decent? I need you to sign a lawmaking form since you’re on the council,” Gaara says. 

“Can it not fucking wait, Gaara?”

“I think you’d be particularly interested in this one.”

“What is it? Fucking- larger water rations?” Kankuro huffs.

“No. It’s your right to marry,” Gaara says, in that same tone he uses to dictate his grocery list. “Amongst other things.”

Kankuro lumbers out of bed for that one, even tugs a shirt over his head and comes outside. Gaara has an attendant with him, but Kankuro couldn’t care less whether she sees him a bit… disheveled. “Just my signature?” He asks, looking at Gaara, who’s holding out a scroll. 

“Yes,” Gaara says tiredly. 

Kankuro signs his name under the collection of council members, handing the scroll back to Gaara. The circles under his eyes look like they’re weighing down his entire face, and he blinks rather strangely at Kankuro as if he’s trying to focus his vision. 

Kankuro doesn’t know what to say to his creepy little brother who’s been working to change his life day and night, who looks like he hasn’t slept in days because he does his damn job so well. 

So instead, he gives him a hug. Gaara freezes with his hands awkwardly held out as if he doesn’t know what to do with them, because he thinks the last time he and Kankuro seriously hugged (drunk snuggles don’t count,) they might’ve been twelve. “Thank you,” mumbles Kankuro, and quickly pulls away so as to not make either of them more uncomfortable.

“You’re welcome,” Gaara says plainly.

They stare at each other for another few seconds, and then Gaara’s attendant breaks the silence by fussing over him. “You _must_ get some sleep now, Kazekage-sama,” she says, urging him down the hallway. He looks damn near delirious. “Your signature was the last,” she explains to Kankuro. “He’s been lobbying for a few days. I’ll get him to bed, don’t worry.”

All Kankuro can do is nod, watching them start down the hall with a strange feeling in his chest. When he finally turns to go back into his bedroom, he actually closes the door behind him, but stands at the top of the stairs, stunned. “Did you hear all that?” He asks, staring wide-eyed at Kiba.

Kiba is grinning, hands resting behind his head in bed. “Mhmm.”

“Do you know what that means?” 

“Don’t propose right now, doll--”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” laughs Kankuro, and shakes his head as he comes down the stairs, clambering back into bed. “Just means that now when I do this…” he moves back over Kiba, in the same position he’d been in before, and moves tantalizingly close, their lips inches apart. “...it’s actually legal this time.”

**TRACK 11: SWEET SPOT - KIM PETRAS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hey to me [on tumblr !](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle)
> 
> this fic'll probably have like... 1-2 chapters more at most. thank you so much to all of you guys that have been reading and leaving such sweet comments. i adore you guys :)  
> EDIT: hahahah I added some songs for this chapter and don't diss the Glee. Go listen to that cover and tell me it doesn't make ya sob
> 
> EDIT 2: curious as to what went down at the end of this chapter??? read the subsequent porn [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080101) or keep going in the series, and it'll be right after this fic!


	18. Kankuro and Kiba's Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this'll be the last one....!  
> <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long for an extra long time since I haven't updated in a while hahaha. Enjoy! Thank you to everyone who's read. <3

**TRACK 12: OPEN SEASON - HIGH HIGHS**

Gaara ushers in a wave of Sunagakure change in the same way that he conducts everything he does- in silence. Fixing the mess his father had left behind is not a linear task, but through a variety of sleepless nights he takes it upon himself to right the wrongs of a poisoned government the best he can. 

There is no dramatic news or announcement of the biggest law change in their history- legalizing homosexuality- and it’s per Kankuro’s request. It stays that way until Kiba scoffs at him.  _ You think you’re the only gay guy in this goddamn village?  _

Kankuro gives Gaara a disgruntled “go ahead, then.” It makes the newspapers the next day.

Kankuro still hasn’t been out of the manor since the coup. It’s been nearly two months. Of course, this doesn’t go unnoticed by the village. While knowledge and news of the coup is limited (Kankuro’s personal life has not been broadcast to the village), the villagers do know that he was targeted and attacked. They presume him to be healing, and Kankuro could argue that he is, but that healing has turned to anxiety now. 

Kiba can smell it. It’s not that Kankuro doesn’t have the energy for daily tasks. Kiba has successfully gotten him up on all four of the days that Kiba has been there. They’ve done something minor and productive each day. One of those days had even included cleaning Kankuro’s room, which no longer smells like sweat and depression. 

Kankuro’s just too nervous to do anything else but meander around the house. 

He’s started coming out of his room thanks to Kiba always having cabin fever.  _ I’m not stayin’ in here all day,  _ Kiba states, and his stubbornness is usually enough to drag Kankuro into the kitchen or the living room. 

Akamaru has also been growing increasingly restless. He enjoys his naps in Kankuro’s bed as much as Kankuro does, but he’s certainly not built to stay in the house all day. 

One morning, after hearing Akamaru whine and scratch at the door, Gaara follows Kiba around for an awkward seven and a half minutes while he’s making coffee, as if he’s nervous about something but won’t say it. 

“What’s up?” Kiba asks, which makes Gaara flinch. He often forgets Kiba can sense certain shifts in mood the same way dogs can. 

“I had… a question,” Gaara says thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Kiba says, waiting for him to elaborate, “alright?”

“I was just thinking,” Gaara says, “I’m surveying some construction and development projects this morning. I’ll be walking a lot.”

Kiba is listening, gives this awkward attentive expression, but god, sometimes Gaara just says things and Kiba doesn’t know why. 

“And- anyway,” Gaara mumbles, shrugging and avoiding eye contact, “I had the idea… though I’m not sure if he’ll be interested....”

“Who? Kankuro?”

“No,” Gaara answers. 

“What?”

“I was going to offer to take Akamaru along,” Gaara says, glancing over to where Akamaru is laying by the front door, pining to go outside and do something. 

Akamaru’s head has already perked up at the mention of his name. 

“But I don’t know if he’d be comfortable going without you, or if he wants to go with me at all,” Gaara says bluntly, “so--”

Kiba’s mouth stretches into a toothy grin, with a laugh following. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?

Gaara blinks at him, looking between Kiba and Akamaru a few times. He’s seen Kiba talk to Akamaru a multitude of times, but has never been inclined to do it himself. Surely he must understand, right? And Gaara’s been working for ages to get Akamaru to trust him. The last time Gaara had seen him in Konoha, the dog hadn’t been too keen on having him around. Akamaru seems more comfortable here, though. 

Gaara clears his throat, coming over to where Akamaru is laying. “Akamaru,” he begins while Kiba stifles a laugh, “I’ll be in town today overseeing projects. The job description this morning is one of travel and surveillance. In layman’s terms, I’ll be walking throughout the village all morning. Would you like to come?” 

Kiba is still trying not to laugh at Gaara having an increasingly formal conversation with his dog, but he’s also taken aback at Gaara’s perceptive kindness. He likes Kankuro’s family, he’s decided. A lot. He isn’t sure how Akamaru will answer, though. 

Kiba will admit that he’s a little bit surprised when Akamaru hops up, wagging his tail. 

“Would that be a yes?” Gaara asks, and there’s a hint of a smile on his awkward, stoic face. 

Akamaru barks affirmatively. 

“Well,” Gaara adjusts his robes, “that settles it. We’ll be leaving within the hour.”

The rest of the day, there’s talk all over the village of how the Kazekage walked around with a giant white dog. Not only this, the dog seemed to have opinions on questions that Gaara asked him. 

When they come back that evening, Akamaru’s white fur is tan with sand and dirt from the village, panting from the heat as he bounds inside. 

In the kitchen with Kiba and Kankuro, Temari looks at Gaara strangely. “You mean to tell me Akamaru came to work with you?”

Gaara nods, taking off his hat. “He was a wonderful assistant.”

Akamaru barks again, licking Gaara’s hand before he goes to bid hello to Kiba.

“You’re the best, aren’t you?” Kiba grins, scratching behind Akamaru’s ears. “I know you’ve been bored. I bet that was fun. What if we train tomorrow, huh? You and me and Kankuro?”

Kiba looks at Kankuro. “What do you say? Maybe in the morning before it gets too hot?” He asks hopefully. This takes Kankuro’s depressive episode to the courtyard, at least. Outside is progress. 

Kankuro shrugs. “I guess.”

Temari snorts at that. She’s offered Kankuro to train maybe thirty times and he’s always refused lately. When she’s home, Temari watches Kiba interacting with Kankuro with awe and silent jealousy. It’s not that she’s upset Kiba has this way with him. They’re in love, right? It’s just almost infuriating that tasks she’d tried to get Kankuro to do for weeks, all Kiba had to do was ask once.

She decides she won’t trade it though, can put her jealousy away in favor of seeing Kankuro out of bed before noon the next morning. He’s actually eating breakfast with his family- him and Kiba have woken up early enough to catch both Temari and Gaara before work. It’s pleasant, Kiba thinks, as he sips coffee with them. For three people so brusque and different, he feels comfortable in front of the siblings. The energy in the room isn’t tense or heightened in any way. 

“What did that letter from Sakura say?” Temari asks, while she lumps another spoonful of sugar into her coffee. Gaara cringes at it, and then piques his attention to her question. 

“Nothing of relevance to you,” Gaara says. There isn’t any malice behind it. He’s just being honest, and Temari rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t care what your love letters say. Did she say anything about plans for the Summit?”

“How would she know anything about that?”

“She’s Tsunade’s right hand, isn’t she?”

“Not quite.”

Temari groans insufferably, shaking her head. Clearly her point hasn’t been received and she doesn’t care to argue further. 

“As far as I know they’re already putting together battle units ‘n stuff,” Kiba pipes up. “They want to have plans to talk about at the Summit.”

“We’ve been doing the same,” Gaara says, and he’s still side-eyeing Kankuro. Every few days the same conversation will resurface- the village wants him to lead a company. And every few days, Kankuro refuses. 

“You should come to work with me today,” Gaara says to him. 

“So you can shove more politics in my face in front of some awkward council members? Nah,” Kankuro snorts. 

Gaara purses his lips and looks at Kiba. “Has he mentioned to you that he’s under consideration to lead a Surprise Attack Division?”

“He… said something about it,” Kiba says. He can’t lie to Gaara for Kankuro’s sake, even if the truth makes Kankuro huff and turn away from him. 

“And that he won’t take it because he’s a coward?” Gaara says coolly, and suddenly Kiba feels the energy in the room shift. 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” retorts Kankuro. 

“If you don’t want to come back and be on the council, that’s fine,” Gaara says, “but you’ll be doing everyone an immaculate disservice if you don’t take this position. And you know it.”

Kiba is quiet. On one hand, it’s easy to talk about positions in war as if everyone is a pawn. But it’s starting to hit him that he’ll be placed somewhere, too. And if Kankuro takes this position- which Kiba absolutely believes he should- the amount of danger he’ll be in is insurmountable. There are times when their profession hits him too hard in the gut. 

“He’s right,” Kiba pipes up after a moment, looking at Kankuro rather woefully, “you should take it. You have to.”

“When did this become anyone else’s choice but mine?” Kankuro interjects angrily. 

“Because you’re acting like a fool,” replies Gaara. 

Kankuro’s fingers clench and unclench. Gaara makes it too easy for him to snap sometimes, saying whatever comes to his stupid little red head. “It’s not an order, is it? So I can refuse.”

Gaara only snorts. “When you’re finished acting like a child, we can have this discussion.” With one last sip of his coffee, he sets the cup back down on the counter. 

Temari leaves a few minutes after, and Kankuro is left staring at a half-finished mug of coffee because he’d rather look at that than Kiba. 

It’s difficult to talk about things like this with Kiba. Kankuro knows all about his frustrations with rank and being seen- Kiba’s still a chunin after all- and not many people acknowledge his abilities. For someone who comes from such a strong family, the pressure is a lot for Kiba. Kankuro gets why an opportunity like this would be an automatic ‘yes’ in Kiba’s eyes. 

“I’m just…” Kankuro’s voice trails off, “We’re not talking about it right now, okay? Let’s… go train, or whatever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**TRACK 13 : GET RIGHT TO IT - LOUIS THE CHILD (ft. Ashe)**

Training is a huge wakeup call that morning. So much so that Kankuro actually sort of panics. He’s used to maintaining all of his skills and physique with missions. Usually he’s so busy, he trains maybe once a week at most. But finally starting to move again out of being out of commission for months? 

He’s winded, he’s losing to Kiba, he’s gained probably ten pounds, and he’s embarrassed to the point where it’s making him mad. Despite the fact that they’re both dripping sweat under the 11 o’clock sun, Kankuro won’t take his shirt off because he can’t stand to think about what’s under it right now. He misses being in shape. He misses when people were scared of him. Out of breath, he grunts as he sits down in the sand of the training yard, hands braced behind him. A Jonin, is he?

Kiba is happy in the sunlight, skin bronze and glowing, shirt tossed aside and his hair up in one of those buns Kankuro has come to be very fond of. “You done already? You didn’t even bring a single puppet out.”

“Shut up,” Kankuro pants. “And don’t be stupid. I’m not using those on you.” 

“I always thought that when we sparred I might lose. Close combat isn’t really your thing, is it?” Kiba taunts. He knows that the more he runs his mouth, the more annoyed Kankuro will be with him. They’re the same in that respect- they get motivated by jealousy very easily. 

“I’m going easy on you,” Kankuro bluffs.

“Oh, yeah?” 

“That’s right.”

“How about we make a bet, then? If you’re so sure you’ll win?” Kiba asks, stretching his arms over his head until one of his shoulders makes a  _ pop _ sound. “I dare you. C’mon.”

Kankuro snorts, shakes his head, and then he starts to laugh.

“What?” Kiba huffs. 

“Does this sound familiar to you?” Kankuro grins, his hand up to block the sun as he squints over at Kiba. 

“Huh?”

“I remember the last time you dared me to do something.”

“Yeah?” Kiba’s hands are on his hips. There’s a warm breeze coming through, and his eyes are closed as he enjoys it. He looks handsome like this, with the sun on his face, sweat on his shoulders.  “Dared ya to give me a smooch.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Kankuro rolls his eyes. 

“Like what?  _ Smooch? _ ” Kiba coos. “Come over here and give me another.”

“Not after you said that.”

“Gimme a smooch,” Kiba urges, bends down to grab Kankuro’s chin playfully, squeezing his cheeks so his lips puff out.

“‘M not,” Kankuro argues. 

Kiba leans down anyway to kiss Kankuro’s pursed lips, though he keeps it chaste. They’re both sweaty and disgusting. “Anyways. Back to our bet.”

“We’re still betting?”

“You bet your ass we’re still betting.”

“On what?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Kiba says. “You’re going to stop going easy on me and actually spar with me. If I win, we go on a walk. Not a bullshit manor walk. A real walk. Around Suna. I wanna see this damn village.”

Kankuro already moves to complain, and Kiba shushes him. “If you win… hmm. I dunno. What do you want?”

Kankuro shifts his weight, sitting up a little bit. “A blowjob would be nice.”

“Men only want one thing,” Kiba scoffs. “Something  _ classy _ .”

“Is that not classy?” Kankuro simpers, and then shrugs. “Uhhh… if I win, then… we sleep with the blinds closed tonight.”

Kiba is always complaining that he needs the light to wake up, while Kankuro likes to be shrouded in the dark until he decides it’s time to be awake. They’ve been bickering about it all week. 

“Deal,” Kiba says, reaching a hand out to help Kankuro up. “Taijutsu. First to pin.”

“No ninjutsu?”

“No ninjutsu.”

When they start, Kankuro is pleasantly surprised. Kiba always impresses him in new ways, and this time, it’s being an incredibly adept close-range fighter. 

He blocks any jab Kankuro puts towards him. He’s also smaller and faster than Kankuro, quick to dodge any stray kicks as the two of them go back and forth. 

Kiba catches one of Kankuro’s quick fists with a fanged grin. “You know you have to land one on me to win, don’t you, doll?”

Kankuro narrows his eyes and moves to shift his weight off and try something else. Kiba’s still faster, responding with a kick that Kankuro barely dodges as he continues to move back with the speed of Kiba’s hits. 

“‘Course I do,” Kankuro pants, and he fakes to the side to get Kiba to dodge, just the right angle for him to kick Kiba square in the gut, sending him flying back. 

It’s oddly toxic and cathartic at the same time, to spar with a lover like this. 

Kiba hits the ground with a loud grunt, though wastes no time in rolling right back up. “I’ll give you that one,” he grimaces. 

If he weren’t such a competitor, Kankuro would feel bad. Instead, Kiba has him lit up with motivation that he hasn’t felt in a very, very long time. 

“I thought I was losin’ it,” Kankuro grins, “I guess I’m just getting started.”

“Don’t get excited,” Kiba says. The corners of his eyes are starting to darken, along with his pupils growing thinner. In the back of his mouth when he talks, Kankuro can see his teeth are sharper. 

“You’re really tryin’, huh?” Kankuro baits, and Kiba rushes back towards him faster than before, with another bout of hits. 

There’s enough that Kankuro actually has to flip out of the way, something he hasn’t made his body do in weeks. His shoulders ache and his wrists feel taught when he comes back up, only to be too slow and have Kiba come at him from behind instead. 

He knocks Kankuro’s foothold right out from under him, and swiftly grabs him to slam him back into the ground. The sand underneath them is not kind to Kankuro’s back or any of his limbs, and a weary groan of pain leaves his Kiba successfully pins him. 

“What was that about just getting started?” Kiba says from above him. His hair has come undone, hanging in front of his face. Where his hand is on top of Kankuro’s chest, the nails have grown long and clawlike. As he calms down, they begin to retract. 

“Son of a bitch,” Kankuro grunts moodily, wincing as he pushes himself up to sit. “Not gonna be able to lay on my damn back for a week.”

“Should’ve been faster,” Kiba quips, though helps him up. “Looks like I win.”

“I let you win,” Kankuro mutters, although they both know that’s not true.

“Right,” Kiba laughs, brushing sand off of Kankuro’s wet t-shirt. “A few more weeks and you’ll be right back to where you were. You got me good once.”

“Don’t say it just to make me feel better,” Kankuro rolls his eyes.

Kiba shakes his head with a smile. “Wouldn’t lie to ya. Now let’s go take a shower. We’re goin’ out. I won a walk, remember?”

“Right now? We’re doing that today?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kiba retorts. “Today.”

“Christ.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kankuro’s face paint has laid untouched on the bathroom sink since he unpacked his things after coming back from Konoha. He hasn’t had the drive or desire to put it on, and even though Kiba has offered, he’s consistently refused. He tucks it into the pocket of his clothes and takes it back to his bedroom, where he stares at the container for another two minutes or so. 

**TRACK 14 : FEEL IT AGAIN - HUDSON TAYLOR**

“That’s a good song. Turn it up,” he says absentmindedly to Kiba, who has already found his CD player. It’s playing on his bed. 

Kiba, who’s tugging on a pair of clean pants (ones that actually fit), looks over at him. “You gettin’ dolled up for our walk?” He wobbles a little bit, on one foot as he hits the volume button.

“It’s not makeup.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Kankuro faces his mirror, unscrewing the tub of paint and running his fingers over his skin. It’s smooth, save for some sunburn. 

“Gonna do a new design?” Kiba pipes up.

“Maybe.”

Kankuro’s fingers run from the line of his jaw down to his neck, gingerly skimming over the jagged red scar that adorns his throat now. He doesn’t want anybody to see it. Moreover, he doesn’t want anybody to see him at all. He wants to be so different that the village doesn’t recognize him. He wants someone to do a double take. 

He dips his brush into the paint. 

With one hand pushing his bangs back, the other draws a triangular shape over his forehead. He lets it dry before putting his bangs back down, and continues to carefully swipe paint over his eyebrows, under his eyes. He continues with two zigzagged lines on either side of his face, even dabbing the paint over his ears. Another triangle over his chin. He lets it go over his jaw, under his chin. And then he’s not even dabbing it- he’s slathering it on, waiting for his neck to turn that shallow purple as he covers it with paint. 

Kiba watches him, opens his mouth and then closes it. It’s none of his business, is it?

“Kiba, go in my drawer for a sec? The black shirt on the top.”

Kiba tosses it and Kankuro catches it without looking, just a hand reached up. “Thank you.”

Kankuro pulls the shirt over his head and Kiba should’ve known it would be another all-black longsleeve, but it’s got some flair to it. It has some patches on the elbows that match Kankuro’s newly colored facepaint, as well as some hooks that loop onto his fingers. 

“Look at you,” Kiba whistles, “is that new?”

Kankuro shrugs. “I’ve had it.” He turns back to the mirror to finish off his neck. It’s all covered, every last inch of it, and he feels confident about it. But his favorite part of this shirt is the hood that he flips up shortly after. Maybe now no one will recognize him at all. “You ready? We can go.”

Kiba could choose to make a comment about how there’s more face paint than usual, or how Kankuro’s hood covers more than he would like (he likes seeing Kankuro’s handsome face.) But instead, all he sees is his Kankuro up and ready for the day and that’s enough for him. 

“I’m ready. Y’look handsome,” Kiba says, and squeezes Kankuro’s arm as he moves past him to grab some sunscreen off his bedside table. He knows now why Suna shinobi wear long sleeves. The sun is no joke without some sort of protection. 

Kankuro rolls his eyes, though he smiles. “Akamaru, he calls out, “you coming?”

Akamaru scrambles off of the bed to join them as they head up the stairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**TRACK 14: PUT YOUR RECORDS ON - CORINNE BAILEY RAE**

When they walk out of the front door, Kankuro is reminded that Kiba has never actually walked around Sunagakure. He doesn’t know which way to go. Not like he should, anyway. Kankuro loves his village. There’s a lot of interesting spots, and he has a route that he favors himself, especially on his days off.

“Where do you wanna go?” Kankuro hums, looking over at Kiba. He looks charming, wearing some Suna fabric that’s wrapped around his neck and shoulders, with a loose fitting longsleeve as well that dips down the chest. 

“Just… show me somethin’ cool,” Kiba says.

Kankuro nods at ANBU that are positioned by the door, and turns to the right to head into town. It would be the road that he takes to work and to the markets. 

Akamaru bounds in front of them, running circles when he has room. He’s so excited to stretch his legs, and he seems to love the desert, according to Gaara’s report. 

“So that’s the Kazekage building. See how it connects to our house?” Kankuro points to a large structure above them as they walk. “That funny looking window is Gaara’s office.”

They turn a corner. “There’s the Academy.” If they look beyond the fence, they can see students training. “Baki’s probably splittin’ skulls up there right now.”

“Is your Academy really, like… as tough as people say?” Kiba asks curiously. 

“Mm. I’m biased. I had my dad training me before I even got there, and his training was way harder than anything the Academy ever made me do,” Kankuro answers, “but the answer is probably yes. The Leaf is soft.” He says simply. 

“We are not!” Kiba huffs. 

“Right,” Kankuro nods, a smile on his face. “Whatever you say.” 

The further they walk, the closer they get to the hustle and bustle of Sunagakure street markets. They’re different than Konoha’s. They’re much more rural and populated. A lot of them are small family business. There’s no trace of chains that are beginning to bloom in Konoha. 

“Kankuro-sama!” Calls out a high voice, that of a woman. Kankuro nearly grimaces at being recognized, but turns around anyway. It turns out to be the old lady that sells chicken skewers. “You look well! Wonderful to see you!”

“I am,” he calls out, waving. “Thank you!”

“Was that your girlfriend?” Kiba teases with a soft snicker, nudging Kankuro’s side.

“You shut the hell up,” Kankuro laughs. 

If this were Konoha, their hands would be touching. 

“Kankuro-san!” Kankuro’s attention is caught again by a group of guys about his age- all people he would go drinking with typically. “Lookin’ good! Glad to see you’re feeling better!”

“I--” Kankuro cuts himself off and just smiles. “Yeah! Thank you.”

They’re across the street from Kankuro and Kiba, so they don’t bother to interrupt the flow of traffic. “Cards next weekend? Drinks on me!” One of them calls out.

“Cards for sure,” Kankuro promises. 

“Another hot date? You’re so popular,” Kiba whispers playfully in his ear. 

Kankuro fails to realize that Akamaru is a huge reason for them getting so much attention. He towers over some of the little stalls and booths, and his tail nearly hits passersby because he’s wagging it so hard. 

“Oh, shit, have you tried these?” Kankuro gasps, yanking Kiba back to stop when they get to a cart he frequents- one with all sorts of snacks. 

“No?”

Kankuro digs in his wallet, handing the merchant a little bit more than he needs to for two bags of chips (whose flavors are exclusive to Suna.) “Keep it,” he says. 

“I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” the saleswoman smiles. “Everyone was very worried for your safety. I’m glad your recovery went well.”

“Thank you,” Kankuro says with a bow, and hands one bag to Kiba. 

He feels like  _ himself  _ for the first time in a while, sauntering through the streets with a bag of way too many calories. 

“These have so much seasoning on them,” Kiba makes a face. “You like these?”

“They’re great,” Kankuro says, and hands Kiba his bag. “Switch. You’ll like these better.”

Kiba just smiles, taking the second bag. Kankuro’s right- he does- and if he weren’t holding something he’d probably reach for Kankuro’s hand right about now. 

The next person- or animal- to demand Kankuro’s attention is two scruffy dogs that come bounding up to him. There are three tails wagging, then, as Akamaru sniffs at both of them. 

“I don’t have anything! Really, truly, I don’t,” Kankuro laughs, bending down to give them both a pet (and a chip). “That’s all. 

“Dogs can’t have chips,” Kiba protests.

Kankuro turns around just to roll his eyes, and then looks Kiba straight in the face while he holds one out to Akamaru. “Have one, bud. Take a damn load off.”

Kiba makes a ‘hmph’ noise, though his annoyance is short-lived. He’s busy watching his boyfriend being surrounded by dogs. 

“Mama, mama! Lookit all the dogs,” says a young boy nearby. “Do you think I could pet the big one? Will he let me?”

“Come pet him, go ahead,” Kiba grins. He can hear everything. “He’s nice. He won’t bite. He’s ninken. They’re super, super smart. And kind.”

The child gasps. “Ninken?” Hesitantly, he reaches a hand up to pat Akamaru’s snout. Akamaru responds with a long lick up the side of the boy’s face, making him giggle loudly. 

“Ninja dogs,” Kiba says. “He knows ninjutsu. All sorts of things.”

The boy is busy marvelling at Kiba’s headband. Anyone from the Leaf is interesting to look at. “This is the dog Kazekage-sama was with! Does Kazekage-sama use… ninken?”

“Koji, let’s go,” urges the child’s mother, beaming at Kankuro and Kiba. “Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”

The child follows his mother with multiple looks back, prattling on about ninjutsu. 

“That kinda stuff hits me,” Kiba comments. “Kids.”

“Them bein’ little and dumb?” Kankuro asks. 

“No, just…” Kiba laughs, shrugging. “There being someone after us.”

Kankuro stands, starting to walk with Kiba again. “Yeah. New gremlins to train. Buncha pissants that I gotta command sometime.” Kankuro frequently serves as a squad leader on certain missions in lieu of Chunin.

“They’ll be so good when they’re older. It’s why I’m gonna fight that stupid war, at least,” Kiba says, and Kankuro just listens to him as they walk. “And win it, too.”

Looking around this alley- just this very village- reminds Kankuro that maybe there is something worth saving around here. 

After tossing their empty chip bags, they have to push their way through a small crowd to keep going. There seems to be cheering, and Kiba suddenly stops walking because of something he’d heard. Kankuro almost doesn’t notice he’s not next to him anymore until Akamaru stops with him. 

“What?”

Kiba tugs Kankuro over by the sleeve (he knows Kankuro will be nervous if it’s by the hand.) “I want you to listen,” he whispers. 

Kankuro can see over the tiny crowd because of how tall he is. It looks to be a group of family and friends surrounding two women. They’re hugging. 

“...it’s true. The Kazekage signed it a few days ago. We can hug… just like this. We could get married if you want. Just like we always planned.” One of them says. 

Kankuro’s mouth feels dry, his heart pounding in a way that he can never quite put his finger on. What would it feel like, he always wondered, to see somebody just like him?

Another cheer erupts. 

Kiba looks up at Kankuro, whose eyes are trained on the scene before them. 

“You both deserve to be so happy,” offers another woman, presumably a friend of the couple. “Congratulations.”

Kiba is so busy looking at Kankuro that he doesn’t notice the large hand open next to him, with familiar painted nails and a new sleeve looped over his middle finger. Instead, Kiba feels it interlocking with his.

“Let’s keep goin’, huh? I got lots more to show you,” Kankuro says.

He leads Kiba through the crowd. Their fingers are laced together. If anyone looks at them, Kankuro doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on the feeling of sun on his face, of watching Akamaru run through the sand, of squeezing Kiba’s fingers between his.

He wonders if there could be a perfect song to describe this moment. 

**TRACK 15: I WILL ALWAYS BE YOURS: BEN RECTOR**

END

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(scroll to the end of the chapter for author’s notes, or keep reading for the notes/outtakes portion of the Google Doc! By popular demand on tumblr these are all my little bits that never made it into the fic, whether they’re notes I made when I was blazed or blurbs I wrote. I added some other notes for context for some of them so you know where they were supposed to be hahahaha. Enjoy!)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Alternate konoha entrance**

His promise to his liver goes right out the window as soon as they step foot in the village gates. Temari goes to visit Shikamaru, of course, and Gaara is whisked away to a meeting before he can even be greeted. Kankuro finds himself alone as usual. 

He doesn’t mind moments like these when he’s by himself. In fact, Kankuro quite enjoys his own company and is incredibly content with buying himself some dinner, having a beer somewhere and going to bed, but his siblings are rubbing it in his face a bit that they have someone to see and somewhere to be. 

He supposes that tonight he’s lonely. 

It’s already dark as he walks through the village even though it’s barely seven. Konoha’s entering winter and light flecks of snow are falling, though they melt before they hit the ground. It’s still too warm for them. The streetlights are flurried with specks of white floating past them. 

The paths get denser as he gets to the food district, looking curiously for something that he’d like to eat. He can’t resist buying a stick of dumplings just for the hell of it, something to chew on while he looks around. 

  
  
  


They get drunk 

**Temari walks kankuro home and he comes out to her (as opposed to him telling her in his hotel room!)**

Gaara already knows kankuro is gay

Im gay - oh so youre seeing somebody?- No gaara did you hear me? Im gay- i know you’re gay. I was asking if you were seeing somebody.  **This was planned from the getgo HAHAHAHA**

  
  


**Some random conversation I guess??? When they first trained together??**

“I guess it makes sense, though. You’re a long-range fighter.”

“I don’t let the puppets do  _ everything. _ ”

“Can you make them talk and stuff?” 

Kankuro rubs his temples. “They’re  _ weapons. _ ”

“Yeah, yeah. I know that part. I’m just curious.”

“I mean, I guess I could. It just wouldn’t serve a purpose,” Kankuro sighs, shaking his head. 

“Show me one,” Kiba says, collapsing onto the grass

“I thought I would come say hi. What are you working on?” asks Kankuro, hands 

hands in his pockets as he comes up to the two of them. He almost hadn’t come at all,but this has turned into sort of a guilty pleasure for him. 

“Combo attacks,” Kiba says, motioning to Akamaru. He’s panting, laying on the ground and taking a rest. “How’d all those meetings go?”

Kankuro takes the strap that holds his scrolls, setting it on the ground. “They 

  
  
  
  


**Kankuro fistbumping Kiba again HAHAHAHAHA**

Apparently there’s so many fun things to do in Konoha that Kiba can’t decide what they should do tomorrow. It’s also absolutely clarified on their walk home that they  _ are  _ doing something tomorrow. 

“I just can’t figure out what,” Kiba says. He walks with his hands behind his head, the smile ever painted on his face.

What Kankuro likes about Kiba here is that their dynamic doesn’t change after they’ve kissed. In fact, they fall into conversation rather easily, talking and joking just as they had before. The sun is setting and it’s time to go home after a long day of training- the strangest training Kankuro has ever experienced- and Kankuro is content to let Kiba walk him home. He pretends like he doesn’t quite remember where his hotel is. 

“I’ll come by in the evening tomorrow. I’ll totally have something figured out,” says Kiba. 

Here they are again at the end of the night, and Kankuro feels like a fish out of water. 

“Are you going to fist-bump me again?” Kiba asks dryly, and Kankuro bristles.

“No,” he huffs. However, he does look around warily. The streets are generally empty as it’s getting late, and no one seems to be paying attention, but that doesn’t make him any less nervous. The last thing he needs to be is a news story. 

Kiba doesn’t miss the way Kankuro is scanning their environment like they need to hide. He understands, but he’s bored. “I get it. Fist bump, or whatever,” he sighs, holding his up. He should’ve known. 

“No, I… that’s stupid,” Kankuro says, shaking his head. It’s getting embarrassing for him that he hasn’t made a single move. He’s not used to this. 

  
  


**My chapter outline apparently?**

This time, Kankuro can feel Kiba’s skin pressed against his, soft and warm where their chests touch every so often. 

~

Making out

~

Gaara and temari - kankuro opens the door shirtless and not too happy with either of tjhem

  
  
  


Wrap up what happened in the last ten minutes before they went home. Kankuro goes home and hates himself and gets super drunk and temari comes by to drop off some documents and walks in on him being a super drunk idiot. She starts yelling at him, but when he’s not firing back like he usually does she knows something is wrong. Before long, he’s just hugging her and he’s crying and he’s so drunk and he finally comes out to her HE DOESNT WANT GAARA TO THINK DIFFERENTLY OF HIM HE WANTS TO KEEP BEING THE STRONG OLDER BROTHER AND TEMARI TELLS HIM HE’S NOT ANY LESS STRONG , he’s stronger BEING HIMSELF

**I also kind of wanted Gaara and Kankuro to have this bro talk when Kankuro came out? But then I kind of established them as these emotionally repressed guys. It seems a lot more realistic. I don’t think those two have had a deep talk, like, ever. Maybe twice?**

  
  


**Planning the Chunin exams and Tsume LMAO**

Kankuro smells like an ashtray

He gets really excited about watching a puppeteer 

Kiba admires him

  
  


“Dogs dont forget. Neither do mothers! 

  
  


**Y’know, they didn’t end up saying like… any of this when they actually said goodbye to each other but it sounded a lot cooler in my head:**

Kankuro that its all gonna be okay? Cause it’s not!!!! Cause it’s not and i don’t know when i’m gonna see you and i love you 

They hug kankuro puts his hand on the back of kiba’s neck and holds him super close he’s crying a little bit

He THANKS kiba for helping him be happy 

I wanna wake up next to you

I feel like you’re a part of me

Kankuro kisses him in front of everyone

In konoha nobody bats an eye because it’s normal

  
  


**Karura is still my favorite part of like… everything I write.**

_ The idea of constant reassurance - self doubt - this doesn’t reaffirm that everything is perfect, it reaffirms that fragile people need a lot of reminders _

_ -kankuro calling karura ‘mama’ _

**I don’t know what this fight was supposed to be?!?!?! But it’s still here?!?!**

“Oh, I’m the sneaky little freak? So when Gaara runs around the village banging Sakura and it crosses the border it’s okay? When you purposely assign Shikamaru on missions to come to Suna, it’s okay? But when  _ I  _ have something that’s  _ remotely mine--” _

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It has nothing to do with that,” Temari retorts, cutting him off completely.

**OKAY THIS NEXT ONE IS WHEN TEMARI AND GAARA SPIED ON KANKURO AND I WAS GONNA MAKE IT SEEM LIKE THEY THOUGHT KANKURO WAS FUCKING A DOG AND THAT WAS HIS BIG SECRET SHGKDJFGHG**

However, once she jostles a keyring- the one with a key to Shikamaru’s house- Akamaru barks. He barks three times, and he barks  _ loud,  _ and everyone on either side of the door freezes. 

“Is there a dog in there?” Temari hisses to Gaara, who shrugs. 

“It feels like two dogs. The chakra is the same.”

“You made us come all the way here for some dogs-- why does he-- Kankuro!” Temari knocks on the door again, and Kankuro is busy panicking. 

Kiba, on the other hand, is laughing so hard that he’s shaking against Kankuro’s chest, trying his very best to be quiet so that no one hears him. 

“This isn’t funny!” Hisses Kankuro

**The last note on this doc is “Kankuro smooches him.” That’s it. That’s the entire fic. Anyways, these are the notes that I thought y’all might like to read. This doc is ~150 pages. Clearly had way too much time on my hands. Love y’all.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it's FINISHED!!!  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you. I see all your guys' kind comments and they make my entire day every single time I see one. This fic started out as such a fun little passion project and became something so interesting- I had no idea anyone would even read it or like it and here you guys are!!! Did you know it wasn't even supposed to be Kankiba? LMFAO it was gonna be a oneshot of Kankuro beating his meat and eating chips. Then I slit his throat like 15 chapters later. Funny how comfort characters work!  
> Anyways, these guys will be coming back in the joint ACEFAD sequel that is coming soon!!! They'll also be featured in some filler-type oneshots. If you're interested in this AU, I highly recommend subscribing to the entire series (or to me!) so you'll get updates! Or you can follow me [on tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shadowstrangle) , I post about everything I write there as well!   
> Thanks to literally everyone who has read this. I had so much fun. I've gotten a few messages from people asking to geek out about this fic (do you have a question about a chapter??? wondering what's happening in the sequel??? curious about one moment???) feel free to reach out to me!!! Y'all are so fun!! I've met a few of my mutuals through this fic and it's awesome.   
> speaking of mutuals, Nava has literally been my lifeblood and has helped me write a SHIT ton of this (Gaara taking Akamaru to work? That was her.) She's also responsible for a bunch of cute art that exists in this AU but y'all just don't know yet (so go follow her art twitter!!!! @navajja)  
> ANYWAYS!!! STAY TUNED!! LOVE YALL!! THANK YOU!!!


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